Vol I : Breaking the Cycle
by spondoolix
Summary: 'Breaking the Cycle', set during Hal's detox, is about his unfortunate encounter with 'Vampire Hunter' Belinda Weaver OC. THANKS FOR GREAT REVIEWS! All now available. Hope you have enjoyed. Hal centric, also stars Tom & Alex Ivan/Daisy/Fergus/Mrs Cutler
1. Part 1 Belinda's Birthday Pressie

_"Breaking the cycle" is a story set after 4x08 one month into Hal's detox. Told from the perspectives of Hal and Chelsea-girl vampire hunter Belinda Weaver. When Miss Weaver comes to Barry, with Lord Harry in her sights, and a ruthless plan to get hold of something she wants, both she and Hal begin an adventure, which has the potential to either break Hal's "cycle" or, worse, unleash a monster more dangerous than Hal has seen before._

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><p><strong>Part 1 - Belinda's Birthday Pressie<strong>

_If the girls at Cheltenham Ladies College could see me now!_ That was the thought that ran through my mind before a kill. It always made me laugh.

It had been a few weeks coming. I had that itch behind my eye to get it done, but it had to be done right. I was the first to admit that they had the advantage; the Vampires that is. I sat in the car at the top of the hill. Lights off. Engine dead. Hunkered down in the back seat and waiting. "Staking out" I said out loud, and laughed at the delightful irony…it was for the sake of No-one Inparticular. No-one was my imaginary friend, he sat along side when Vampire hunting. I'm fully admitting I'm not all there, but it's a lonely life and someone has to do it...

Glorious 60! That was what this would be. One more to top off the 59 notches on the crucifix that Mummy gave me…just before they took her from me. It was going to be a good one. It was worth the hard work that it took to find it. I had made a new stake for the occasion, spent a good few weeks shopping for the right bit of wood, another week making it perfect. I needed something sharp and sure, something that would find its target with the least of resistance. If everything I had heard was true, this one was going to put up a good fight.

I watched the clock on the dashboard tick over into midnight. "Happy Birthday, Belinda," I said, to No-one Inparticular, and I blew out the candles on an imaginary cake.

A howl broke through in the night and I jumped a little. It sounded so close. I had timed it right then? The werewolf that this particular vamp had guarding him was off on his monthly romp through the welsh undergrowth. That meant my prey was alone. But it didn't mean he was vulnerable. I had made that mistake before, I had the scars to show for it. You try covering up those kind of scars! Maybelline just doesn't cut it. This kind of beauty costs a fortune in high-end foundation. I wasn't going to go through that again, not if I ever wanted to show my face in the right circles again.

I had heard about this stellar kill six months ago when I hunted a nest of particularly cruel vampires that were pottering about in Chelsea. They were trawling the nightclubs and had a taste for particularly high class meals it seemed. I fitted right in as bait, wading into the Bluebird like something stupid, easy to eat. All those deportment and ballet lessons Daddy paid for were worth something in the end…I _do_ love the look of surprise on their faces when those things realise I'm no happy-meal, when they suddenly realise I bite back!

There was only one left in the nest when I was done. A sniveling thing whose name I never asked before I turned him into shake-n-vac. I had it pinned by the heal of my shoe. I made some comment about it bleeding all over my Louboutin and the little shit laughed! I was going just to get it done-with when it said something which caught my interest. _Oh, he would have loved you, _it said. That was all I needed: a taste of the next game! A few hours later I learned I needed to know about 'Lord Harry' _Pppft – dead things don't have names in my book, let alone 'titles'!_

The cruelest of them all, It said, 'Hal' taught them everything they knew. He terrified his own kind! From the stories it seemed this vampire's tastes for cruelty were exacted out upon his fellows rather than humans. He didn't waste his time playing games with his food. _Resourceful, a leader, easily bored, _I noted to myself.

He was older than they had dared ask, It said, one from the top. _A survivor, a charmer, a fighter, _I noted.

They all thought he was dead, It said, but he wasn't. He had been seen taking off with some werewolf in tow, over fifty years ago. "Well whatever takes your fancy," I joked, "I'm hardly one to judge people on their night-time pursuits." And, with that, I sherbert-dipped the fanger.

A month ago I succeeded in tracking the werewolf in question to South-End. They hadn't done a good job in hiding. I found they had left recently. I traced the car that the wolf had owned by hacking into the DVLA, to the sunny vales of Barry Island. Just around the corner and down the road from the back of beyond, not even a Starbucks in this hell. It was here I found him, two weeks ago, with another dog. God knows what they had planned to do in this place but, whatever my personal distaste for seaside resorts, I wasn't going to let it happen.

The dog was safe, I had watched it transform the night before, nothing more than a puppy and while it was worth keeping an eye on I'm no wolf-hunter until they look like they're enjoying their 'caninity' more than their 'humanity'. It had found a nice corner away from Barry to do its damage. The vampire was different. I don't have sympathies for them, and if all the stories I had heard were true this was what I had been working up to. I hadn't seen it emerge but I knew it was there. After a while you can just tell: the shut curtains; lights on throughout the wee hours; the strange screams in the night. The wide berth people gave the house was notable to those who knew what to look for. Even if most people don't admit it, evil is easy to spot, and often as subconsciously avoided as the smell from an open drain.

I wasn't going to wait any longer. I was hungry for it now.

I quietly slipped out of the car. I grabbed my bag and shifted it onto my back in one move. Running down the road my heart was pounding that familiar beat…I slipped through the gate unheard and was at the door in two steps. I had the lockpicking kit ready and the it clicked open in barely twenty seconds. I wasn't going to give this vamp a chance to even realise what was about to happen. I was in!

The B&B was silent. There were no lights, no breath in the place. Only the dead lived here. I held my breath too, realising something was near. I could smell it. A coppery, unwashed taste that stuck at the back of the throat. I grabbed my torch from my pocket and held it out front. The stake was wielded, ready to go, and the door was at my back, ready to run. But I wouldn't run. I never run.

I flipped the button on the torch and swung the light around the squalidly decorated room until it found its mark.

"Excuse me?" It said politely when the light fell upon him, reeling back in the glare. Its nostrils flared. Its eyes blackened when it realised I was human. Its teeth bared as it stretched as far forward as it could to greet me, "...who the fuck are you?" It snarled into the light.

I laughed when I realised what exactly I had walked into and flipped the light-switch on the wall. Looking at the vampire, tied into the chair before me, I slipped the torch into my pocket with a baton-swing and lowered my stake.

Now I know why I hadn't seen it leave the house…

Someone had gift wrapped my birthday pressie for me!

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><p><em><em>Up Next:<em> "_How Harry met Belinda"__...__


	2. Part 2 By any other name

_**Part 2: By any other name  
><strong>_  
>"Belinda Weaver," I introduced with a nod of the head and an ironic curtsey. Mummy always told me to be polite. "And you're the one that calls himself 'Lord Harry', I presume?"<p>

"Just 'Hal'," he said. Well at least it had dropped its illusions of grandeur in its old age. Had I believed such a thing could have feelings I might have thought there was sadness in its tone, but I presumed it was just a game to win me over.

"You shouldn't be here," It said with difficulty, "I'm going to hurt you." It stared at me hungrily.

"Ppft! I'd like to see you try."

In the light 'Hal' seemed small, almost boyish, but I could see he was strong. _'It', not 'he', Belinda. Don't let it fool you_. The way his white-knuckled hands gripped the arms of the chair it was as if he wanted rip the arms from their hinges. From the way the chair had been patched up and nailed in places it seemed he had already achieved as much. _What was going on? No, Linny. Don't get sucked in to its' game. You don't want to know. You __really__ don't want to know. _He strained at the bonds which had tied about him, as if I was some kind of magnet, towards which he was being drawn. He only took his hungry eyes from my neck when he caught a glimpse of the stake I carried at my side.

He laughed madly, "That's for me then, I take it, Miss Weaver?"

I looked at the weapon, "Well you _are _a vampire. It's sort of traditional."

"Yes," It said wistfully, "Yes, I suppose it is…" He looked about the room in thought until, clearly, some kind of inspiration fell upon him. Suddenly rattling the chair as best as he could, he tried to yell out, "Al ... ! ..."

I didn't let him get very far calling for help. With a straight kick the toe of my boot slotted between his teeth. There it stayed. Sharp as they were I wasn't expecting his teeth to bite through the soles of these beauties! He coughed from the surprise of a mouthful of Manolo.

"Shh," I said, putting my finger to my lips. His brow furrowed with concern. "Let me explain how this is going to work: I don't do mercy. I don't do chit-chat. I don't respond to threats or bribes or pleading. I'm not interested in war stories, the glamour of the past, or even all the horrible things your kind will do to people I care about once they find that you're gone…I don't have people to care about and I don't have patience for all that other bollocks. Not long from now you're going to be dust and there's very little you can do about that. It's best you accept that. You're lucky that because of your present situation…whatever _this _is…that you have time to come to terms with the passing of your long afterlife. Be grateful, and know that if you call out for your friends that they will find their way into the vacuum bag before you…" I shrugged, "and who's to say that might not happen anyway. Once you've given me what I want then we'll be done…are we on the same page?"

He nodded as best he could. I lowered my boot.

"New shoes?" he spat. Arching his jaw and his neck to shake off the temporary dislocation. He sucked on his teeth checking they were still there.

"How can you tell?" I laughed.

"I can taste the glue. That, and…" he sucked on his tongue in disgust, "…soil. Is it too much to expect people to use a doormat these days? No manners." He snarled. A moment passed, it was like a calm wind drove over him. Then it was gone again. The situation must have dawned upon him again as he began to struggle against the binds. "Fucking idiots, I knew this would happen! _'Jus' goin' to the woods, you'll be fine mate'_ my noble backside! '_Och-aye well if I'm such a 'cack-handed butcher' let's see you shave __yourself __while I haunt the pub, jimmy!_ Bitch!"

I coughed, interrupting his (slightly unnerving) monologue, "I'll have you know_ I_ have an A* in manners. Literally. And as for the shoes, I buy a pair every time I kill one of your lot." I smiled with pride. _Who are you trying to impress Linny?_

"What am I going to be then, Miss Weaver?" he asked with a genteel laugh.

"A nice pair of Jimmy Choo's, since you ask, _Hal_."

"Lovely," he said with seemingly genuine smile followed by a nod of appreciation. Although the pleasantry in his face soon melted away into disdain, "Just lovely, over five hundred years and, to show for it, a trophy in some Buffy-bimbo's walk-in-wardrobe. Super. That's just smashing." He said with a gleam of irritation in his tired, brown eyes. _Why exactly are you even paying attention to the colour of his eyes!_

"You're not the kind of position which would recommend sarcasm as a mode of defense," I threatened.

"No. I'm sorry. You're right," he said. Was his changeability meant to be disarming? It certainly wasn't what I would call sane! "Drive your stake home Miss Weaver. Put me out of my misery." He closed his eyes and puffed out his chest.

I shifted the weight of my stake in my hand.

Opening his eyes, _Yes, brown, like chocolate_, he halted my concentration, "One moment, let me get this right:" he said,"No mercy, chit-chat, threats or bribes or pleading, war stories, glamour or horrible things happening to loved ones you don't have…that was the list, wasn't it? I didn't forget anything?" _Where was he going with this?_ "Only you failed to mention last requests? Since this is, clearly, such a hopeless situation for me, would you indulge me in one of those? By which, I mean, a last request?"

"You're lucky," I smiled at him. _Why not,_ _let's see where this might go, it's hardly like he can do anything to stop me staking him is it?_"Today's a special day Hal..."

I didn't stop to wonder when I started using his name. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure when I started thinking of him as a 'him'. I should have seen the warning signs then I suppose.

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><p><em>Up Next:<em> _How __Hal has been passing the time..._


	3. Part 3 A close shave

**3 – A close shave**

_7.00PM, 5 hours earlier_

"You'll be a'right, mate, I'll just be in the woods. Alex'll look after yer," Tom had said earlier, while he packed a slowly defrosting chicken into a ruck sack.

"Has it been a month already?" I had asked him. Of course I knew full well how long it had been. It was the hours, minutes and the seconds that were a blur. Some seemed to drag into an eon's length, some I had forgotten happening at all. But the soothing, daily updates from the Today Show had helped me track the days at least. "I've hardly noticed," I said with pride. I was joking. What I had thought was a light-hearted tone seemed to, as usual these days, bounce off Tom's thick fucking head.

He looked back at me with eyes no doubt as exhausted as mine. Had I said that last thought out loud?

"One month, 'n one day," he explained. "Yer were aat cold last night."

"Ah, yes…" I said, remembering the forceful crack, to the side of my head, from Tom's fist. "Have I apologised for that yet?"

"No need, mate," Tom said, flexing his knuckles. "I'm sorry me'self. Lost me temper…won' 'appen again. But if yer will scream bloody murder on full moon nigh' when I gorra get somewhere safe…do I need to remind yer what were gunnar'appen if one a the neighbours calls the police?"

"They'd let me loose. I'd kill them all," I said. I caught myself fantasising about the scenario, it made my mouth water.

" 'Xactly. Now are yer gunna eat somethin', want the radio on, telly…?"

"No." I said, the rage rising again, "I want you to fucking let me go!"

"Hal!" Alex interrupted in chastisement. She had appeared at the bar with a bag of sundries from the corner shop. "I got cheesy wotsits!" she said, shaking the bag. "Tom you need to skedaddle. Don't worry! Hal 'n me, we're goin' to have fun, fun, fun!"

"It's 'Hal and _I_' you cretin," I rolled my eyes, "And aside from the fact that I don't _need_ to eat, there is not a power on this earth that would persuade me to put that processed rot between my lips. I'd rather chew off my own arm…" Now that was an idea! Would it grow back? I did like my arm. It was a nice arm. Very useful. But…between that and again having the opportunity to bite down on the supple veins of a…"Tom I really don't think you should go!" I pleaded.

The light was falling. I forgot how close it was to the full moon. Tom was clutching at his stomach. The process must have started. How long had he been holding in the pain?

He looked at me desperately. He would have stayed if I had begged him. He would have locked himself in the basement, perhaps, or the attic. But I knew how that would play out, with his howls and my rages no doubt there would be people at the door in no time…I knew full well how that would end. I hardly cared about what would happen to me, and at that moment I hardly cared about the humans who would arrive. But if they came, and Tom had transformed, then he would kill too. I knew how that would affect him. Even if I ever reverted, I owed him a clear conscience at least.

"No. Go. You're right, I'll be fine. I'll be good. I promise. Really..."

Tom looked at Alex for reassurance. True she had hardly been 'present' in the last month. And we'd hardly got on when she _had_ been there. He was right to doubt her commitment.

"Fun, fun, fun!" Alex said with a wide grin, her eyes bright. She really was quite beautiful when she smiled. Not that I would tell her this. Not that I _could _tell her this, not without some snide remark about my prior indiscretions being the response.

"Okay. Hal, be good. Don' kill no one," was the last thing he said. With a worry, a reassuring pat upon my shoulder, and a run, he was out the door.

Alex dropped the bag. She flopped down upon the sofa with the kind of a weight which I was consistently surprised an ethereal entity could induce. She picked up the television control and switched through the many channels at a dizzying speed.

"Would you just fucking pick one!" I said with exasperation.

"Lookin' for the footie," she spat back. "Celtic are playing. I used to watch it with my brothers. They'll be in the pub back home…I should've been with them…had some prick not decided to _kill_ me an' drink my_ blood_." She cracked open the vile-flavoured wheat snacks and left them on her lap, looking at them forlornly. She must've forgotten that she couldn't eat them. She shrugged and held the bag out to me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and waved my strapped hands in her general direction. Idiot creature!

"Suit yourself," she said.

"I need something relaxing. Competitive team sports are not conducive to…"

"**No sports channels!** How can you have _no _sports channels? What kind of blokes are you?" she spat, reaching the upper echelon of numbers on the box and finding the signal blocked. She threw the remote at the wall and kicked over the crisps.

With a hurumph she returned to pester me, "You look like shit by the way."

"Helpful. Really helpful, Alex." I snarled, "With these encouragements I shall be akin to an angel in no time."

"Jus' sayin'," she shrugged, jumped up and ran her palm upon my rough jaw. "How do vampires shave?"

"Practice," of course when I lived with Leo he did it. He was an expert. I sighed at the remembrance of my life there, how clean and controlled it was.

"But like you cannae look in a mirror or anythin' so…I bet you'd look cute wi' a beard."

"Thank you, I think. But I should rather be…clean."

"You dae wiff a bit, love."

"You're a ghost. You can't smell."

"Still…I'll get you some Lynx next time I go to the shop, ey?" she said and then disregarded her kind suggestion with a shrug. "Whatever, look, I used tae help my dad shave when he broke his arm this one time. I could…for you...you know."

Unnerved by the suggestion at first, I eventually relaxed at the idea. I liked it when she let herself be kind. She was really very good at it. If she would only realise it wasn't a negative character trait she might be tolerable company.

"There's a wash-bag in my room."

In a poof she returned with the little leather bag and began to search through it with the concentration of a voyeur. Finally she took the sharpened straight razor from it and held it to the light.

"Blimey, Hal, Sweeny-Todd-much?" she said as she saw it.

"It was a gift. It's better than those disposable things. They never work."

"I know, but sheesh, you could cut someone's throat with this!"

I chose, tactically, not to respond. I'm sure she'd rather not know where that implement had been.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

After returning in a blink with a towel and some water Alex conceded to tidy me up. I didn't speak at first, uncomfortable with the closeness of another creature (even a dead one). Moreover it was a humiliating experience, so very different to the last time I had let Leo shave me. That was always a peaceful and reverential affair, in which I played the customer, he the server. The dynamic here was so embarrassingly different.

Alex clearly sensed my discomfort and eventually attempted to converse, "So, Annie said you're not a living thing, right? So how come your hair grows?"

Her curiosity about my species always amused me, but she also knew that I liked the calmness of educating her about this new world into which she had been thrust. Tentatively, I joked, "Did you never hear about hair and nails growing after death?"

"Ew!"

"Don't worry, it's not true. That's just a myth, it seems so because of the way human bodies decompose. But when it comes to vampires it grows on me because of the way my body heals. When I was turned I _did _have a beard, and longer hair. If I left it now then it would grow and … **SHIT!** ...Christ, Alex, my head _can_ come off you know!"

While I spoke she had succeeded in slipping with the blade and cutting a deep gash in my throat.

"Well if you would keep still! I'm not used to these… things. Dad had a Gillette! Why is it so sharp?"

"Well if you weren't such a cack-handed bitch!"

"Bleed to death. See if I care," she said, and threw the blade in my lap in anger. I could feel my blood rolling coldly down my neck. She looked terrified at the sight of it, perhaps remembering her own corpse.

"It'll heal," I explained, trying to reassure her, though my tone was blunt. I knew that having not eaten or fed at all in a month that my body was weak. Chances are it would take until morning to heal. It would just make me hungrier, the need for blood would increase, and the starvation to date would be more unbearable. Brilliant.

"I'm a fucking vampire!" I reminded her to calm her concern.

"You're a fucking dickhead," she corrected.

**"Fine!"**

"Uuuuuuuurhg," she stamped her foot in exasperation, "Hal, I don't know, why'dae you have to be such a… such an ungrateful bastard!"

**"**I don't know?** Why do you have to be such an annoying C***!" **At my language her perfect eyebrows practically hit the ceiling. She cocked her head in disgust and disappointment. I admit that I too was surprised that I had managed to shock her...and a little proud. Perhaps a little ashamed.

"I'm going down the pub till you cool down, Mr Potty-mouth," she said as if I was one of her younger brothers. "Have fun, fun, F- !" And she was gone.

The blade sat in my lap.

Five hours of silent, and delightful, concentration later it was in my hand.

Five minutes after I began sawing through the strap around my left wrist the door opened and Belinda Weaver, a human who carried the scent of lily-of-the-valley, new shoes, and temptation, decided to visit.

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><p><em> Up Next: A little Wagner has the unfortunate effect of bringing out the beast in Hal...<em>


	4. Part 4 Erwache mir wieder, kühne Gewalt

**4 - Erwache mir wieder, kühne Gewalt**

I had never turned my back on a vampire before.

"Which one?" I asked, searching through the tattered CDs which Hal had directed me towards, "None of them are labelled." I held two disks up. He had asked if he might die to the strains of his favourite piece of music. It seemed a harmless enough request to indulge.

He smiled, as innocently as he could muster, when I looked back at him. He shrugged his shoulders with a smile. He seemed to be very accepting of his imminent demise. It was a pleasant, if unnerving, change. Then I noted how his hands gripped upon the chair arms, so forcefully his knuckles are almost blue. It was as if he was trying to become one with the chair into which he had been tied. But I had a horrible feeling that if he hadn't been strapped down, as he was, he would have been sitting back in the same chair, legs crossed, leaning upon his hand and nonchalantly watching me, like I was some child who had just learned to stack bricks. Why did I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach?

The doubt is shaken away from me when I note, from this angle, that he has been injured. Whatever his state of mind, that still gives me the advantage. The left hand side of his neck is crimson red. The shoulder of his shirt, the left knee of his trouser leg, all doused with drying tides of blood. His own? He seems pale. Logic would suggest that some sort of kinky vampire sex game has gone wrong here…but what if it was a trap? _Be careful Linny. We don't want this to be Leeds all over again._

"I believe it has written 'Hal's Mix tape' upon it, Miss Weaver. Track three if you would be so kind."

Opening the disks I found one that had the text scrawled in childish handwriting:

_Hals Mix Tape_

_T_

No apostrophe.

"You didn't make this?" I asked, hoping that if he was as old as he claimed he had at least grasped English grammar. He laughed, and shook his head.

"Tom. My…friend..." he said with contemplation in his pause that was so weighty it might have crushed a weaker nut. "He's learning...It was a kind thing to do."

"In my experience, vampires don't have friends."

"And according to your earlier assessment, Miss Weaver, neither do you," he snapped, the condescension in his tone being dropped in favour of a bitter reminder of my own failings as a human.

"Snappy, snappy," I said to No-one Inparticular, and pressed play.

Track three began. I knew it instantly, _Tristan and Isolde. _I laughed. "Why am I not surprised you're a Wagnerian?" I laughed, "_Such _a cliché!"

"I find it…relaxing."

"I'm more of a Puccinite myself…Can I kill you now?"

"If you must," Hal said as the strings of the _Einleitung _strained at the speakers, as the musically themes of Von Strassberg's tale of curses, romance and murder began to wind about the garish little B&B. It had surprisingly good acoustics.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three weeks ago<strong>_

It was much too early for smiles, but I was treated to one anyway.

"Made yer a CD, mate!" Tom said waving the shiny disk in my eye. The early morning sun caught in it and blinded me.

"Joy triumphant," I said. I don't know what I expected, but somehow I did not imagine that Tom could even work the machine when he had taken it with him to bed the night before, let alone have the capacity to choose appropriate music for _me_.

"Thought it migh' make a change from all tha' talkin' on the Radio like."

"I rather enjoy the talking," I explained. "Was it necessary to wake me up?" I hadn't been sleeping.

"Been doin' it all nigh'," He said with a puppy dog smile. "Though' it'd be nice, you know, to listen to a breakfast like. But if you don' wanna…" He put the CD down upon the bar and lumped his way towards the kitchen for cereal.

I couldn't bare the sulking but it had been only one week since he lost Annie, the baby, and he had been so strong, I understood. The loss wasn't helping me in my own struggles either. It had been bad enough when I had lost Leo, Pearl, now _this_. We had both thrown ourselves into helping me control the urges Snow had freed within me, to take our minds off the loss.

_Untangle yourself_.

"No. It's alright. Only it has been a long night for me too, I'm just cranky. Hungry too. We can listen. Really. I'd like that."

I anticipated power ballads. What I got was…surprising.

"Found these old CDs in the corner shop like," Tom explained as he lugged the CD player back downstairs and plugged it in. "'Chillout Classics' innit. Thought to meself, aye-aye, that'll be good for Hal that will."

The first track I admit that I enjoyed, something by a modern composer which I hadn't yet heard.

The second track truly was one of my favourites, Debussey's_ 'Claire de Lune'._ I praised Tom for his selection.

"Yer, I kinda like that'n, sorta like a lullaby innit."

"And the next if you wouldn't mind, Maestro!" I laughed, this was rather fun.

Then it began. Wagner's_ Tristan and Isolde, _the prologue, the _Einleitung._

"**NO!"** I screamed, **"No! Turn it off!"**

"What, mate?" he said, worriedly hurrying to the machine and fretting at the controls.

I shook the very wood of the chair when I heard it. I tore one of the arms away.

"**NO! NO! NO! TURN IT OOOOOFFFFFFFFF!"**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Munich, 10 June 1865<strong>_

"Tribute must be paid," I said to the vampire that met us as we stepped from the coach. I looked over at Snow, who smiled with a nonchalant pride. He liked me to do the talking these days, an honour I was only too willing to exact, "It _is_ tradition." I gave her my most practiced of smiles, the one I used to reassure the lessers of our kind that we wouldn't decimate their food supply if they failed to be polite.

We had arrived in Germany. I never liked Germany. Too grey.

"_A stringy people,"_ had been Snow's assessment as we traveled, _"Far too much fat in the blood. I blame the sausages."_

"Oh, we have something wonderful for you!" said Golda, the vampire, who I think was quite young. She had an impressive resume and so had presumably risen the ranks of the sector quickly. "A theatrical feast!"

"We ate on the journey," I said, shutting the door on the coach with my the sole of my boot. Little drops of blood stained the stone floor at the back of the Munich Opera House_._ The carpet of the coach had been ruined, but that was not something we needed to worry ourselves with. Golda clapped her hands and the rolling buffets were driven away. "Though, I dare say, gluttony has always been my favourite sin." I said as we looked at the impressive building before us.

Snow leant to my ear and whispered an instruction, followed by a private joke, I laughed.

"Yes, she is," I agreed, and then dropped my amusement, "Round the front if you please Golda, we're not tradesmen."

And so we trouped through the crowds, up the entrance of Munich Opera House, to the highly anticipated premier of Richard Wagner's great 'Leibstod' opera_._

_"I do like Wagner. So dour," _Snow said as we were ushered through the crowd to the box seats._ "He'd make a fabulous recruit. When the revolution comes I shall need something of quality to listen to."_

"I would save judgement until after the performance. It's a love story," I advised. "You know how a romance puts you off your dinner."

_"True,"_ said Snow, absently, as he was led to the great box.

We each had a box surrounding the stalls (giving us a view of the after show buffet) and Golda offered me mine. Inside, she explained, there was a treat. I opened the door and there they were. Triplets. I had always wanted to try triplets.

"The performance is five hours long," Golda indicated at my ear. "I thought, one for each act should suffice your appetite until the finale."

"My, my, Golda!" I said. "You really know how to impress."

"You'll tell Snow?" her expression flashed with ambition. She clearly had her young eyes upon a seat at our table.

"Certainly."

The girls had been told I was a noble man from England. "Lord Harry," Golda introduced me with a smile, though I had never liked the pseudonym. The trio curtsyed with glee. I was glad they hadn't walked into their deaths knowingly. It was always so dull when they were willing.

"My dears!" I said with open arms, "I do hope you have the stamina for the performance, I hear it is a long one."

And with that Golda shut the door. Only _I_ heard the lock.

I liked a challenge and Golda had done her homework. The game was going to be good. How to drink from each sister without the other ones ruining the performance with their screams?

But as the _Einleitung_ started so did my appetite, it was almost insatiable these days, if I wasn't careful I would loose control and spoil myself with a binge. With each rising chord, with each dropping string I could feel my gut rumble with hunger. I placed one hand on the nearest sister's knee. She tensed a little, it was hardly appropriate behaviour on my behalf, but then she returned the favour by entwining her small Bavarian fingers in mine.

"Wie ist Ihr Name, meine Liebe?" I asked the girl. She bit upon her lip and shook her head. Opening her mouth I saw the poor child had a stump of a tongue. A lustful mute! How tempting.

But, too easy. I'd save her until the last Act. I'd see if I could get a sound out of her then.

As the polyphony in the introduction rose the hunger tremors were so palpable I worried that they might start my heart.

"Die Musik gibt Ihnen Leidenschaften, mein Herr?" the sister to my right whispered in my ear. I turned to meet her lips, the monster within breaking through into my features. Knowing full well she would know what I was when I turned, my teeth bared, my eyes taking in all that they could see. But she did not react. Her eyes, I noted, were clouded with blindness. She could not see my monstrous face.

"Be quiet!" I said with disappointment, as pleasantly as I could given that the urges in my throat, "or your harpish mutterings will ruin a masterpiece."

She shook her sightless head with the surprise at the chastisement, but she was subdued and pulled away. Too easy, again. I would save her for Act II, and see if she would put up a fight when her other sister was dead.

Perhaps the third would be more appropriate as a first course.

Returning my features to their usual calm I looked beyond the terrified one and caught the eye of the last sister. With a gentle nod I encouraged her over to my side. She stood, dusted down her forget-me-not blue dress and wandered before me. She looked at her sisters, one terrified, the other gripping upon me like I was a prize she had won at the fair. I patted my knee with my other hand.

"Können wir reden," So we might talk, I said. Trustful, but cautious, she sat.

I asked if she liked the music. She looked at me blankly. Was she an imbecile?

I repeated it slowly, "I said: Mögen. Sie. Die. Musik?"

The girl tapped on her ears and shook her head.

When I realised that she was deaf I was suddenly excited. She would be first. After all, it was a mercy. It wasn't as if she could enjoy the performance.

As the _Einleitung_ finished I slipped my hand over her lips and took forceful hold of her neck with my my teeth. They buried into its sinews and I drank my fill with elevation. She tasted like fresh green Reisling and summer strawberries. The first sister did not let go of my hand, but gripped it tightly as she watched me tare her other sister apart. The second leaned upon the rail and with closed eyes took in the fill of Wagner's strings.

Then the door opened. It was Snow.

_"You were right, Hal. I don't like romance,"_ he surmised, bored and interrupting my dinner. I had killed lesser vampires for such indolence, but not him. _"Finish up. I'm not waiting five hours for a decent meal."_

* * *

><p>I pulled the stake back above my head as the music reached its crescendo. There was the bite at the back of my throat. Here was I, Belinda Weaver, about to kill one of the most infamous vampires I had ever heard of! If Mummy could see me now! It was perfect. I would have liked there to be a fight, I did like to show off my high kicks, but this was just wonderful. I had to admit the music helped, maybe I'd put this on my iPod for the next kill.<p>

Winding up to deliver the fateful blow I brought down the stake with all the force I could muster. It found its home. It hit the flesh and tore through and hit...a rib, the chair?

I was on my knees before him, the stake was buried deep into his flesh. Why wasn't he dust?

"Sorry, Miss Weaver. You missed," he said with a smile, his eyes that familiar black. I realised too late that somehow he had shifted his body as I drove the weapon home!_ How had he managed that! _I had plunged my stake into his stomach.

Seconds later, as the track reached its final chords I found both his hands on my temples. _How had he got free? Had he been free all along? How could you let this happen, Linny? _He lifted me up in one quick move and his fangs were in my throat. I fought, of course, but with each gulp he held me tighter.

Isolde's aria became faint in my ears as I choked upon my own blood, 'Erwache mir wieder, kühne Gewalt; herauf aus dem Busen, wo du dich bargst!', she sang, _Be stirred in me once again,_ _bold power;_ _rise up from my breast_ _where you have lain concealed!_

As he dropped my emptying body upon his lap, casually, like the discarded bone from a devoured meal, I suddenly heard something...

"WHAT IN HOLY FUCK!_ Hal!_" a scottish voice screamed.

"I...I...I..." the vampire stuttered, "It's not what it looks like!"

And then everything was black.

* * *

><p><em>Up next: Some mistakes bite back...<em>


	5. Part 5 Bugger

**5 – "Bugger"**

Alex looked at the scene before her with horror and disdain, "No' what it looks like? I'm sorry?" She laughed nervously, fitting her fist into her mouth as if to stifle the horror. I put her reaction down to shock. "Sorry? I mean, what the actual f**k?" she said. Once she took her fist from her mouth she began waving her arms about like a lunatic. "So, ye mean that you _haven't _jus', One:" she counted on her fingers, as Belinda Weaver gurgled her last in my lap, "insulted me… on purpose! So that, Two: I leave you te your own devices te cut yourself free, then three…THREE!... Killed someone. Actually. Properly. Killed someone! In the living room… where we watch Countryfile!"

"Well, no…I suppose, now that you put it like that…It is exactly what it looks like," I licked my lips, and lifted my arm to wipe my mouth on my sleeve. How good it felt to have my limbs back in my control.

"I cannae believe it. No, I actually, really, actually, can NOT believe it!" She was pacing now, repeating herself. It was dizzying. "I mean noooooo-hoo-hoo, it's no' bad enough that you have to drink my blood! No! No! No! That's ne'enough. You have to chow down on another poor cow too. _Cutler made me do it_, blah blah blah! _I have a condition_, blah, blah, blah!"

Shock and denial. She had a remarkable ability to scurry through all the stages of grief, even when it wasn't her own death. But she always got stuck when she reached anger. She would be there any moment, "Change the record, little girl."

"This is my fault isn't it!" she cursed herself, switching off the CD player. "I knew it. I knew I shouldne ha' left…I knew it. I knew it." Pain and guilt now. Any minute now she'd reach that incredulous fury she executed so well.

"Perhaps, if I might point out, she did try to stake me," I explained, pointing to the lump of tree in my stomach, "If that counts for a thing." Looking down, I found the implement shielded by the delicious creature who had wielded it. I pushed the dead weight of Miss Weaver onto the floor, in order to reach the splinter in my gut. It was itching terribly. My body was desperate to heal now that it had the fuel to do so. Miss Weaver's corpse landed upon the carpet with a thud. Her hollow, blue eyes stared right through me to the land of the dead beyond. She was quite beautiful really. I hadn't noticed before, with hair the colour of caramel, elegant, pale cheek-bones. Lying at my feet like a Pre-Raphelite beauty, I realised I had only been looking at her neck. That beautiful, swan-like neck. There it was, still an appetising draw. Licking my blood-coated lips, I could feel her fresh warm blood coursing through my veins, filling up the juicy dried meat in my old brain like it was a sponge dropped in a warm bath. Oh, how…good it felt. How filling. How…spectacular…

"Hal!" Alex interrupted.

"What?"

"You're actually…drooling."

"Hm?"

"And your eyes they're doing that," she waved her fingers about her face in disgust, as if indicating I had forgotten to wash, "thing."

I blinked the monster away with the satisfaction of a good meal. I felt stronger than I had done in years! I could take on the world! I _am_ an Old One after all. Hounds, and the reconstituted smoke of long enjoyed meals, were all well and good for a distraction, but I was capable of so much…better. I pulled the stake from my stomach with a squelch, held it up between my fingers in distaste at the mess, and placed it carefully upon my lap with a smile. "Sorry, force of habit."

"This is a fucking joke, right?" Here it came, that glorious and eloquent celtic anger.

Now Alex was staring. Her eyes were enraged, as wide as moon-pools. I probably had very little time before she noticed…

"And I think I'll have _that!_" she snapped like a mother hen. She appeared at my side and took quick hold of the straight razor with a swipe.

"Give that back you little bitch!" I yelled before reaching frantically for the strap around my torso. Tom and clasped it at the back. I tried to wrench it toward my teeth to shred it apart, "I'm a fucking Old One you pestilent whore. You can't keep me here, you _won't_!"

"Ah-ha-ha! Clearly I cannae...but Ol' Sparky can!" with a childish glee she brandished the taser that Tom kept on the windowsill. It had been my suggestion, for an occasion such as this. As 500,000 volts of electricity, enough to floor a bull, coursed through my teeth I had a horrible feeling Alex was taking out her anger on the right man.

When I came round I was clean. The bloody clothes that had been clinging to me sat in a bag by the door. I could smell Belinda Weaver's dying blood upon them, like a bunch of rotting lilies. Alex had lashed me down again. It was a condition against which I railed until I was exhausted, until the curses upon my tongue tasted like bile.

"Change the record, old man," she said. "Or it's twenty-four hours of teletubbies for you, and don' think I won't have the strength to do it."

I calmed myself, feigned an apology, "Sorry, really, I think I have it out of my system now."

"The blood or the foul language."

"The foul language," I admitted.

"I think we have a problem."

"Yes. I have a problem," I admitted, "It's an addiction. I warned you. I…I can't help..."

"No…no' _that_," Alex nodded towards the body by my feet, "That!"

"Tom has no need to find out. It was a temporary lapse. Temptation walked through the door. Terrible timing, that was all…You can get rid of it." I told her, hopefully, but I realised that there was a desperation building in me now. I could feel the terror of my failures return to me, as the temporary feeling of omnipotence, which always followed a kill, evaporated. With it came the realisation that all I had, all I would ever have, was this. I was not all powerful. I was not great. I was not even half the man I had been when I was alive. There were only two things that might be called great in me: the monster, well fed, dancing on the conviction of invincibility; and the man better creatures hoped I might be, a man who was always out of my reach.

"Her," she corrected.

"Her…you can get rid of her." I was _not_ going to beg. If I had to suffer the indignity of remaining here against my will then I would not beg again. I was better than that...I was better than them all. But Tom, after all he had gone through, he couldn't know..."Please?"

"Firstly, I've already cleaned up one of your messes tonight, you're havin' a laugh if you think I'm goin' to do it again. An' secondly, you're missing the point."

"I'm sorry...the point?" I spat.

Alex folded her arms. "I've been sittin' here fe three _whole_ hours. I've nae needed te leave this room for more than a few seconds."

I shook my head.

"The point is you killed her. Ye'd think she'd be pissed. Ye'd think she'd've turned up be'now?"

"Turned up?"

Alex waved her arms up and down her body as if_ I_ were an imbecile, and as if _she_ were an exceptionally good advertisement for her point, "Aye, like as a ghost, Hal."

Slowly, it dawned upon me, the acid reflux of realisation.

"How much of my blood was there on those clothes?"

"I dunno, a few pints, at least. You've a surprising lot o'it for a dead man. How much does it normally take te, y'know, make her all…" She hissed, bared her teeth and raised her fingers like claws.

I rolled my eyes, it was a terrible impression.

"At the point of death, no more than a drop need be mixed…How much was on her, exactly?"

"Technically speaking?"

"Technically speaking."

"I don' know, somewhere between a shitload an' a fuckin' shitload."

"More than a drop then?"

"I'd say so."

"Bugger."

Belinda Weaver, vampire killer, welcome to the club.

With a terrible sense of dread, we both looked at the corpse, waiting for her to wake.

* * *

><p><em>Up Next:<em> _"If I can pull of cornflower blue with this skin tone, then I can totally be a vampire." _


	6. Part 6  I'm already fighting me so what

**6 - I'm already fighting me so what's another one**

"Stake her!" I ordered, forgetting that getting Alex to do something by telling her to is about as possible as training a potted plant to make a cordon bleu supper.

"You want me te what now?"

"Fine, just, let me loose. I'll do it," I suggested straining at the straps. She had been a little over jealous in the restraints, the tips of my fingers were going grey.

"Nice try, Sunny-jim, but I'll be doing no such thing."

"Please?" I attempted, innocently

"Don't you puppy-dog eye me. Don' you think I've learnt all those tricks by now?" Alex shook her head, "You could try the insults again? Or, even better, you could start on all that holier-than-thou BS you do oh so well. I wake up every day dreaming of that shit."

"Droll, Alex, droll. I always look forward to these tête-à-têtes. They are so rewarding."

"You're hardly a basket of sunbeams and puppies yoursel'"

"Then why don't you just leave! Go and haunt some other poor fools. Leave, but don't just go on like a pointless broken record!"

"Oh, an' I'm sure that will turn out just dandy, because clearly you're all better now? What do think will happen to Tom, hm? When you finally loose it? I'm no' havin' that shitstorm on my conscience thank you very much."

"Then let me return to my earlier suggestion; be a dear, and **fucking stake her**!"

"Unlike you, Hal, I'm no' a murderer."

"She's already dead, you exasperating creature."

"And whose fault is that then? Hm? Hm!" If her eyebrows had raised higher they would have alarmed air-traffic control.

I sighed, struggled, raged pointlessly before finally conceded to explain the true predicament, or at least I did so when first I had succeeded in persuading Alex to remove her fingers from her ears.

"You have to understand. She will wake up. She will have suffered the nightmares of the transition, and she will be hungry. No, not hungry, famished. From there, my best guess is that she will kill the first human she comes across, then the next, then the next, then the next, and so on. She clearly already had the taste for killing, vampires perhaps, but taking a life, even a souless one, is an incredible drug. In my experience those humans who begin killing supernaturals soon move on to their own kind. The moral high ground is a precarious place one can easily fall from. I can only guess what kind of vampire she might make.  
>I used to have a penchant for turning the soft ones, the least murderous. Not just because it was so much fun to make them something corrupt, but because they were easy to control. Turning those that already have the hunger for killing is never recommended." I thought of my own death, the glory, majesty and chaos of wars long lost. I thought of every life I had taken, before I had to, and how proud I had been, "recruits like that are not just a danger to humans. In the end they become..."<p>

"Like you?"

"...wild," I surmised.

A buttery voice responded quietly from the floor at my feet, "You are aware that it's incredibly rude to talk about people behind their back?"

Alex jumped from the bar stool when Belinda opened her eyes. She snatched the stake from the bar and held it out before her like a loaded gun.

"I think you'll find that's mine," admonished Belinda as she dusted herself down and pulled herself up using the sofa for support. She was back up again on those astonishing heals, seemingly nonplussed by her present state. "As a rule I don't like people touching my things," she said, and held out her hand for her property.  
>Alex seemed in a quandary. She hesitated.<p>

"What are you doing? Don't give it to her!"

"I'm not!"

"Well you could have fooled me!"

"Would you two like to get a room?" Belinda interrupted.

"With her?"  
>"With him!"<p>

My new recruit stamped her foot on the floor, "Would you both just shut up for one damn minute." Silence fell like a stone.

I thought perhaps some chivalry would break the tension, "Miss Weaver, firstly, I would like to apologise for…"

But my words were lost in the ruckus as the Amazonian creature flew at poor Alex and began to struggle for the stake. Alex tried to shake her off bravely. They must have transported all over the house. From the clatter in the kitchen as plates hit the floor, the heavy thuds and squawks in the rooms above, and the sound of a cat fleeing in the front garden, I presumed that Alex's attempts had failed. The twosome reappeared on top of the coffee table with a crunch. Belinda stood, snatched the stake from Alex and fixed her outfit.

"She pulled my hair!" Alex insisted. "Who does that!"

"You're a ghost. You don't actually have hair," I sighed.

Belinda stomped over the sofa in a single stride, landed with a jump and swiped the bag she had been previously carrying.

"Morning, Hal."

"Good Morning."

"An interesting turn of events this, isn't it?"

"One might say that. Miss Weaver, do you understand what has happened to you?"

"Perfectly, in case you hadn't realised, I'm smarter than I look: you killed me, and now I'm alive again. That means somehow I've been infected? I presume that nagging ache in my stomach is going to get worse?"

"Indeed. Now, the crisis of your belief system is perfectly normal, you have become the thing you have hunted. What you need to do is let me go. I can help you get through this." Wasn't there a speech I used to give? Something about history, it always did the trick, set the right tone, but for the life of me I couldn't find the words in my old head.

"Oh, I'm not having a crisis in my belief system. What was it you claimed was going to happen now? That I'd either let you go or stake you, and either way humanity would suffer?" She loomed above me, and rested the point of the stake in my chest. I backed away cautiously, knowing full well it would do no good to struggle now.

"Alex, a little spark of assistance, please?" I begged of my friend. Hoping she would get my hint.

Belinda began to put her weight behind the weapon, "You know, today was my Birthday, Hal?" she said, "Killing you was going to be my birthday present to myself. I was going to polish you off, take myself to do a little sight seeing, a little retail therapy and then drive back to Chelsea before anyone noticed I was gone. I was going to nod and smile at my birthday drinks with a crowd of people whom I truly hate, and listen to all those vapid conversations with a smile on my face, knowing I'd done something good. And you went and had to spoil it by killing me."

Belinda slapped one hand on the back of the chair to give her self good purchase for the final push home. I felt the pressure of the stake bruise my rib cage and began to panic.  
>"Told yer she'd be pissed," Alex said.<p>

"Not! Actually! Helping! Hit her with a chair…something, anything!" I informed her, nodding sideways in the direction of Tom's taser. She shook her head with confusion. Stupid bloody woman, this was it, I was a dead man.

"It was going to be the best birthday ever," Belinda continued. I closed my eyes, prepared myself for the plunge. Every muscle in my body was tense, as if somehow that might stop the wood from hitting home. Surprisingly, I felt something wet on my forehead. I opened my eyes in horror._ Get it off, get it off, what is that!_

She had kissed me!

Right, smack between the eyebrows. No doubt staining my forehead with an oily, red smear of spittle. The thought of it turned my stomach, I found myself looking up at the spot, desperate to wipe it away.

"But, this! Oh. My. God! This! This is brilliant!" she said.

"I'm s-sorry?" I stuttered in shock as she backed away and tucked the stake in the back of her trousers. My dead heart rested easily a moment in its socket. My stomach muscles unclenched. She wasn't going to stake me then?

"Seriously, think of how many vampires I can kill now. They won't see me coming. I can just waltz right in, one of the guys, and bam! Pixie dust parade!" She clapped her hands, "Why didn't I think of this before, genius."

"Wait, so you're no' going to kill him?" Alex followed my train of thought.

"What? Hal? Oh, him? Yes of course, obviously I'll kill him. He's a vampire. Killing vampires my USP, babes. But not yet, I've got to get to grips with this thing."

"Thing?" I spat incredulously, "being a vampire is not a 'thing'."

"Neither were pastels in 2011, but they're all the rage this spring. If I can pull of cornflower blue with this skin tone, then I can totally be a vampire."

Alex guffawed into her fist.

"Give me strength," I said, finding myself hankering for Tom's company, "Women."

"Oi!" said Alex and Belinda in unison.

"If either of you would be so kind as to kill me now, I would genuinely thank you for it."

"Later, Harry, Dear. Later," Belinda promised, "But first, would one of you explain what the whole S&M setup is about?"


	7. Part 7  Linny's Nightmare

**7 – Linny's Nightmare**

Until that night in Leeds people would say, categorically, that there was only one thing that Belinda Weaver scared of. It wasn't monsters under the bed. It wasn't losing my parents, hell, I never really had them. It wasn't dying alone. It wasn't destitution or critical illness. And it certainly wasn't vampires. It was, put quite simply, not getting what I wanted. I admit it. I was quite shallow back then, perhaps I still am a little.

It was in Leeds, and I was nineteen. That was the first, and last, time I didn't get what I wanted. It was also the day I realised that there was something which terrified me more.

_**Leeds, May 10th, 2006**_

"The thing is, Linny, you're totally beautiful," Toph said, taking my hand I realised he was shaking. Diddums, he shouldn't be nervous. I was going to say yes, but not too quickly. I couldn't let him think it was going too be easy, but I had forgotten how charming he could be, and had to bite my tongue, "I mean top drawer, darling."

"Thanks, Hun," I said taking his other hand with reassurance, to help him calm down. We were in the north, meeting half way. I had come down from St Andrews in the Jag, and he had come up from Chelsea to drive a vintage Citroën DS home for his father. I hadn't seen him in a month. He had booked a private room in a Michelin starred restaurant. It was secluded, romantic, low-lit, and apparently had great food (I wouldn't touch it though, dieting). I knew what was coming. I had been working on this for years.

"And I really think Dad's going to bring me into the firm now. I've shown him, haven't I, what I'm capable of? But I know there's so much more I'm going to do."

I smiled passively, as surprising as it was that Toph had made a passable success of his designer Chinese tea shop in Notting Hill I would hardly call him Donald Trump. "You've done amazing, babes," I placated, dreaming of that house we were going to buy, all those kids we were going to have, and how important it was to make Toph think he was the one in charge of all those decisions. That was probably the best thing Mummy taught me: the secret to getting what you want, is making people think that it's their idea. Any minute now he'd whip out the ring.

I had decided I was going to marry Toph when I met him at the Henley Regatta in 2000. He was handsome, loaded, not half as thick as the rest of the guys and, as far as I could tell, gay as a Christmas morning. He'd never tell his Daddy, of course, and I wanted a guy who I could keep at arms length. It was going to be a marriage made in heaven.

"It's just…"

"What?" Why did something feel wrong, he couldn't look me in the eye.

"I mean, like I said, you're really beautiful."

I snatched my hand from his in horror, realising by his face that this wasn't going how I had planned it. After all this time was he finally going to come out? Now! Fucking world class timing, Toph, I'd already told Mummy and Daddy to book Croatia for the wedding.

"You're just kind of one dimensional."

I slapped him. It was a reflex. Shock, I think.

"Sorry, look, that's not what I mean," he said rubbing his chops.

"You called me _one dimensional_! How exactly should I interpret that? Was it meant to be a compliment?"

"It's just that you don't _do_ anything Linny, none of us do, except coffee mornings and shopping and bitching about Ronnie. I mean it's all well and good being a Yah, doing Art Hiz at St Andrews, but why! You and I both know the _only_ reason you're there is because everyone else is. I don't know. I'm just not sure what the point of you is anymore."

"Oh my God, Toph, what in Holy Manolo are you going on about?"

"It's just I met this guy last year and…"

"Was his name Dale Winton?" I snapped. He ignored the jibe.

"He just said I was capable of so much better. He opened my eyes to something and after that my whole life just felt kind of wasted."

"Have you joined a cult?"

"I don't know, you don't find it, kind of, empty?"

"So, I'm empty now?" I really couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could this guy call me pointless? He had about as much forward momentum as a spastic crab. Christ, he used to get a nose bleed if someone pushed him to plan what he wanted for breakfast the next day.

"Not you, well, not really, I don't know, just what you represent."

"And pray, Toph, darling, what is it I represent?"

"Maybe he can explain this better than me? I really think you should meet him. He invited us to eat with him, here, tonight."

"Who?" So this wasn't Toph's idea? I should have known.

"His name's Ivan. He's, like, amazing. I can't wait for you all to meet him," Toph's grin stretched from ear to ear. He clearly had another crush. I'd dealt with these before. I'd deal with this one too.

"All?"

"Well I figured you'd want your friends here, I mean it's not every day you get dumped."

"You're dumping me, is that what this is?" I'd never been dumped, at least not when I didn't want to be.

"Ronnie, Bea and Charlie are coming up to help. They want to meet him."

"Oh, I just bet they do. Wait, you told them _before_ me!"

"Well, they think it's for the best too."

"I can't believe you people."

"They're your friends."

"You and I both know that there are no _real_ _friends_ in our circle, Toph. Don't be dense. They're just coming up for the show. We live in a world full of people waiting for you to fuck up, just so they have something to talk about over dinner."

"I didn't know you felt that way."

"No? I thought honesty was what we were going for here?"

"You're just hurt. I don't want to hurt you, Linny, not like that. I just think we need to reassess our relationship based on what I've learned. There's a whole world out there that is just waiting for us to take hold of it! There's, I don't know, 'purpose' out there."

"Is this guy Ivan some kind of voodoo-god-squadder, Toph? You sound like a fucking space monkey. I think all that Chinese tea has gone to your head."

"There's no need to be mean. He's just really interesting. You'll like him. He said he didn't want to slum it for dinner just because they were in Leeds, they said they fancied something posh. So, I said they should join us."

"Knock, knock," a nasal voice interrupted from the doorway. I recognised it immediately. Turning round, I saw Ronnie pouting like a slapped Afghan hound, "Can we come in now, only it's totally tragic downstairs."

"They've been here this whole time?" I asked Toph incredulously.

Ronnie explained, "Yah, like Ivan's been telling us all about the fall of Russia and stuff. He's like, sooo interesting, babes." She dragged a crowd behind her, just like her to be the tip of the arrow. Charlie, who blogged about nightclubs for a living, followed. Then Bea, his girlfriend, who was trying, and failing, to make it as an underwear model in between holidays to her parent's house in the Maldives. Toph's mysterious new friends came in last and shut the door behind them.

I could see immediately why my boyfriend had a new crush. Ivan was the absolute epitome of his type: urbane, tall, gravelly. As soon as he entered it was as if he wore the room like a Gucci overcoat. Now, that, I thought, is presence. His 'wife', though I seriously doubted she was anything but a mistress, was hardly put together right. She was like some wild thing, and clearly had no concept of outfit coordination. I took an immediate dislike to her, particularly the way she slammed herself into her seat like a petulant child. No manners.

When they had sat down, Ronnie right beside me, patting my hand as if such light-hearted placation was all being a "BFF" required, I was introduced.

"Ivan, Daisy, this is the girl I was telling you about. Top drawer, right?"

"Charmed," Ivan oiled. Leaning across the table he took my hand and kissed it, "We've heard a lot about you."

"Well, at least there's _one_ gentleman in this room." I professed to Toph, snidely. "Sorry Charlie. Right, now we're all here, when's dinner arriving?" I asked impatiently.

"Oh? Yes, sorry," Toph suddenly laughed, as if there was a joke I hadn't been told. It was unnerving how his confidence had grown since his new friends had arrived, "It's already here. How are we going to work this Ivan, one each?"

"What?" I snapped, confused.

"Oh, _babes_," he trolled, ironically, "Perhaps I should have come-out sooner. So, you should prepare yourself for a shock. Big news is - " He played a drum roll on the table, "- I'm a vampire now! Ta-daa!" He held his arms out in pride.

Ronnie, Charlie, Bea and I creased up. I think Charlie hit the table with this fist a few times.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhh," Daisy hushed maddeningly. Her finger remained on her lips until we finally ended our hilarity, the atmosphere in the room had completely changed. Suddenly I felt incredibly vulnerable. "Sorry to spoil the party," Daisy drawled. "I hate to break it to you, sweetie. But, he's not joking. He was recruited in, wait, Hong Kong was it?"

"Gap Year," Toph explained, "Totally worth the mozzy bites."

Then Daisy's eyes flashed, and with a hiss and a leap she was on Ronnie, tearing her from my side like she was snatching a rag doll from my arms. She moved like some kind of viper. Bea screamed as Ivan snatched her up too and began to tear her apart. Toph shrugged and made for Charlie. But Charlie wasn't going to go down easily. He was a Rugby front row and, despite the fact it seemed Toph had been working out, he gave him a run for his money. It was like watching a gazelle chase a lion, and then, surprisingly, winning. Charlie was floored in a flapping pool of rugby shirt and blood.

I was stunned. Not because of the carnage, simply because in no way had I been prepared for _this_. Here was I, expecting a proposal, and I got a blood-bath. I backed away from the chaos, fingering my way towards the door. But in a flash Ivan's 'wife' was on my scent.

"I want your boots," she said, hopping towards me and weaving before my eyes, "they're pretty."

"Over my dead body, darling," I spat.

"That can be easily arranged."

"We're not even the same size." I explained.

"Pooh bear, she isn't scared!" Daisy whined, and demanded the assistance of her husband who dropped what was left of Bea on the expensive table, "I thought you said she'd be fun Christopher Robin!"

Now it was the turn of my old sweetheart to return his attention to me.

"The only thing scary about you, hunny, is your appalling lack of hair product. Did you even run a comb through that rats' nest before you got here? You do know there's a dress code?" I had enraged her, luckily, Ivan held her back.

"Now, now, Piglet, we promised Chistopher we'd leave her for him."

Toph was wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and bounced over, "I want you to join us, Linny, it's so much fun! You need a purpose in life!" He pulled me away from his new friends with care.

"How dare you, you little shit, I have purpose!" I spat with incredulity at him. One of the chairs had broken, a shattered chair leg was within reach. Would it work like the movies?

"Okay then. What is it?" He asked, folding his arms and waiting for my response.

"I…I…" Never before had I been lost for words. That was when it dawned upon me. He was right! There was literally no point, to any of it. I shook my head.

"Go on, he said." He indicated the mutilated bodies of my 'friends' beside me. "Try it. It's sooo good, and totally calorie free!"

Bea reached up towards me with desperation. Her hand begged me for help as her collogenised lips flapped open and shut like a fish gasping for water.

In a second I was on her, sucking at her neck like some kind of water fountain. Her blood was warm and with the consistency of melted chocolate.

It didn't happen like that in the real world, of course. In Leeds, on May 10th 2006, I staked Toph in the chest when I had my first opportunity and fought my way out of the restaurant with the feeling that, for the first time in my life, I had found something I felt I was born to do. I never saw Ivan and Daisy again. I would probably still kill them if I did, on principle.

Of course I knew immediately that what I had just experienced was a dream. Or, perhaps I should rephrase, when I saw Toph I knew immediately was that I was in a nightmare. At first I thought I had was in hell, that killing nearly sixty vampires wasn't enough of a success to take me somewhere with better lighting, better company, and a bar. Also because I always suspected that hell would be that singular event, replayed, over and over and over and over: the moment I realised I was a planetary non-entity. Perpetually failing to reach my potential. In the real world, ever since that day I had a point, it was at the end of a stake. If you'll excuse the pun.

While I was drinking, the ghosts of Toph, Ivan and Daisy drifted away into the darkness and I was alone. Blood soaked, humiliated and hungry. Then they came, the men with sticks and ropes, and they tried to drag me to hell. It felt like an eternity of screaming and fighting before I reached the surface of my new life. My new life as a thing that I had run away from all those years ago.

But this wasn't hell, it was just the transition, from what I was to what I am now.

Something changed in me as the nightmare played out. It was probably a physical change, but there was something else too as I realised what the person who had been Belinda Weaver had become.

When I woke it no longer seemed like a nightmare. It seemed like a pleasant dream, it reminded me that all those years ago I wasn't fighting for my life, I couldn't care about that, I was fighting for my _purpose_. It had taken me long enough to work out what it was, and I wasn't going to give up on it now. Killing vampires is more rewarding to me than anything. And, I tell you what, it won't make a blind difference what I eat, I'm fucking good at it.

I have a feeling my lack of terror in the transformation worried Hal. Perhaps one day I would explain. But, after Alex and he had cleared up the whole 'detox' thing, we had more important matters to attend to. The most pressing of which was the confused looking werewolf at the door.


	8. Part 8 The longer I'm sober

**8 – The longer I'm sober, the drunker I was**

Alex's explanation to Belinda began bluntly, "I'm Alex, and _that's_ detoxing. Much good it's done," she had such a way with words.

Subsequently she explained that until tonight I had been clean for exactly one month, and that before that 'momentary lapse' (demonstrated, in full, with ironic hand air quotes) fifty-five years had passed. She indicated that if it wasn't for some 'veiny-faced Old One' and a 'flamesicle called Cutler' that _I _would be clean, and _she_ would not be dead. Oddly, in Belinda's presence, Alex seemed to deflect all the responsibility for my blood-drinking onto my associates. She had never offered me the same courtesy when we were alone. It was a subtle, and charmingly affectionate, change of tone. I wondered if she had even noticed it.

While Alex spoke about the events which led to my current state, at insufferable length, and with varying degrees of comprehensibility and accusation, Belinda nodded in understanding and folded her slender arms. I noted that it seemed she did so to hide that her hands, which were already shaking. She had responded to the transition with a concerning grace, and seemingly was capable of holding the hunger. It was a remarkable skill of which, I must admit, I was instantly envious.

In my time I had seen hundreds of vampires recruited. When they woke some succumbed to the thirst in seconds, some minutes. I recall stories of one vampire lasting an hour, but it was apparently messy. If I remembered correctly, the aforementioned Cutler, my last recruit, achieved the average: five minutes before he buckled and begged for food. He was an instant disappointment in that regard. I used to be 'kind' and ensured those recruits in my care had the opportunity to kill quickly, for some I had even had a little something prepared. I knew well that prolonging the inevitable made it worse for all concerned, human and vampire alike, but my reasoning for my action wasn't care, just distaste for the mess that abstinence eventually caused. The higher the climb, the harder the fall, reminded a little voice within me. Why attempt the climb at all?

_No. You can do this, Hal, focus._

Worryingly I noted my own hands had begun to tremble. I clasped hold of the chair arms hoping it would pass. I don't know why, but the desperation to rage at my friends was successfully withheld for once. Despite the need to scream, and swear and beg for release, I bit my tongue. The ability to exact such control was pleasantly surprising.

Perhaps I wanted to impress my new protégé?

Perhaps it was the monster taking control?

Perhaps it was because there was a lady present?

Perhaps I was overanalysing…

Nevertheless, I knew now that the old burden had returned with vengeance, and that despite my binge there had been no blood-blindness this time. It was perturbing how comfortably my body returned to its old routines. I was sprung from my thoughts by a familiar grunt.

"Err…Hal?" Tom's voice drawled from the doorway with concern. He dropped his rucksack at his feet and stared at our house guest as if someone had defecated upon the coffee table.

Pointing at Belinda, rather rudely I have to note, with one arm, he asked the question I had dreaded, "Why's ther' a pretty vampire in our sittin' room?"

With the other hand he pointed to the shopping bag stuffed with bloody clothes by the door and asked a question I hadn't considered, "an' a bag full'a clothes covered in human blood by the fron'door?"

He was out of breath. He looked as if he had run here from the other side of Wales. I imagined he had caught the smell of the blood from a street away and panicked. He waited, patiently, in the entranceway, pointing like some robotic traffic-controller.

Open mouthed, I stared at my friend, with horror, "I…I…she's my…I'm her…" What could I say to excuse this mess?

I looked hopefully at Alex with panic upon my features. It had all happened so fast I hadn't thought what we might tell Tom. I had half hoped that, with luck, he or Alex might stake Miss Weaver and the problem would go away, but I had a horrible suspicion that wouldn't happen. Alex was no killer and Tom had become so easy in the company of my kind these days. I knew that trust was going to do him some damage eventually, until now it had worked in my favour.

"Um?" Alex hesitated, equally lost for words. She shrugged apologetically.

It was Belinda who broke the confusion with confidence. She held out her perfectly manicured fingers toward my friend, "Hello, my name is Belinda Weaver, and I'm a vampire."

"Uh, yeah?" Tom shrugged, having worked that out already. He dropped his shoulders warily.

"I'm sorry, that's how we introduce ourselves in VA," she took Tom's hand and shook it.

Alex looked at me with confusion. _What?_ She mouthed.

I shook my head. _I've no idea either._

"VA?" Tom asked, equally unsure.

"Haven't you heard of Vampires Anonymous?" Belinda explained as if it was a terrible oversight on Tom's behalf, as if it wasn't an entirely made up entity, "I've been allocated as Old Harry's sponsor." She laughed, from the blank expressions on my friends' faces I presumed they had never heard of that term.

Tom corrected her upon my behalf, "It's Hal. So y' don't drink blood n'that?" he asked with suspicion.

"Never touched a drop!" she crossed her dead heart.

"Then what's this?" he picked up the bloody shopping-bag.

"Ah, yes, well that was just a test to see how our friend would respond to the contents. I have to say there may be some work to do in that area," she laughed and leant towards Tom conspiratorially, "between you and I, he didn't quite get 100% on that particular test."

"No one died though?" Tom pressed with worry.

"Please, Mr…"

"McNair," he responded, bristling with pride at being treated so maturely by one so fair.

"Mr McNair, you needn't worry. I promise. All parties involved in the test are up and about, and quite happy with their lot in life."

"This true?" Tom asked Alex and I for reassurance.

I nodded, swallowing my reservations. Lying to Tom was better than telling him how badly I had fallen off the wagon, wasn't it? Plus, it was not quite a lie.

Alex bit her lip at first. I was unsure how she would respond. She wrestled with it too, and lost the battle with her morality, as I had done. She nodded, "She came while you were out."

"We've been keeping tabs on 'Hal' here for a while. We got quite worried when the rumours started that he'd lapsed," Belinda continued. She was clearly adept at deceit. I almost believed her myself. "He's our poster boy, can't have it getting out that he's on the sauce again! There'd be a massacre," she continued.

"S'ok," Tom shifted nervously, "We've gor'it under control, don't we Hal? Don' need no help thanks Miss."

Belinda jumped in, "And, don't get me wrong, I have to say you're doing an excellent job Mr. McNair. It takes great strength of character to achieve what you have done." She took Tom by the shoulder and led him to the sofa where he sat obediently. She had such charm I imagine a lion would lie down before her and purr. "It's only I have a job to do, and a lot of checks to make. There are a lot of vampires out there who have heard of what Mr. Yorke has achieved. I really need to leave here with absolute confidence that we can make a go of it, out there. You shan't notice me, I promise."

"You're goin' to stay?"

"No, no. I have a hotel room booked at the Cardiff Hilton. It's five stars. Lovely, perfectly fine for my purposes. I can pop in every day and check up on things, get what I need and be out of your hair before you can say 'Vlad the Veggie'."

Tom repeated the words under his breath unconsciously as if Belinda was speaking Norwegian. Clearly the strain of paying attention to Belinda's speech had confused his dog-tired mind. He looked back at me with a pair of concerned eyes. I shook my head. I could guess where this story would end. He shouldn't make her leave. Not only would she kill as soon as she saw a human, but knowing that there would be even more blood on my hands, even tangentially, without the freedom to enjoy it, was sure to make me worse. The desire to experience my old world through new eyes was palpable. I shook my head frantically, _Don't,_ I mouthed.

"Nah," Tom gave way, "you should stay 'ere, Miss Weaver, we want'y to. It'll be nice to'av some help anyway. An' we're a B&B 'int we?"

"Really, Mr. McNair, I don't want to trouble you," Belinda Weaver responded a little worriedly. I suspect that Honolulu Heights wasn't up to her usual standard of residence. I used to have high tastes too, but we all adapt. Adapt or die. Yet there was something in her tone which encouraged Tom, perhaps she really want to stay? I could no longer tell if this was a ruse. My instincts seemed clouded when it came to her arts. I pretended that this was because of the blood in my system, but if I was honest I would say it was because she fascinated me.

"We'll make it all nice for'ya won't we, 'Lex? Breakfast in bed an' all that stuff, if ye like?"

"Well, that would be really lovely," she said, "I have to say, I'm famished."

"Brilliant!" Tom said, jumping up with a new purpose in life. It probably made a nice change having someone else to entertain, someone to put that god awful orange shirt on for. He'd long stopped making an effort on my account.

"Bacon sarnies all'raand, then? You must've don' somethin' right Miss. Weaver. Ain't seen Hal this quiet in weeks 'ave we 'Lex? I dunno what I was s' worried abaat last night nah."

"Yeah, you're right," Alex said with a surprising note of sadness, as Tom ran into the kitchen, "he's a regular fluff ball this morning. I'll get rid o' this then, shall I?" she spat, hooking up the bag that contained the remnants of my clothes, and Belinda's human life, in her ghostly little finger.

Belinda blushed, "If you wouldn't mind, hun? You're a total doll, thanks. Men, huh, can't live with us…"

"Can't live without," Alex laughed, seeming to relax around for the first time since the scrap.

I put aside the growing hope that, perhaps, she would be good for us all when Alex rentaghosted outside with the rubbish, leaving Belinda and I alone for the first time since I had torn through her throat.

"How am I doing, Yoda?" she asked, "appropriately believable?"

I nodded with caution, "Oh, you're good."

"Babes, I'm the best, and don't you forget it," she winked, and I think I both loved and feared her just a little more.


	9. Part 9 Step 1

**9 – Step 1**

It began with a phone call.

"Damn! I reeeeally miss bacon," the ghostly Alex griped. The werewolf was on the sofa with a mountain of sandwiches. Every five minutes the ghost was sticking her nose up to the buns to smell them.

I whipped out my iPhone and scrolled down to call Daddy's PA. She was the closest thing to family that I had.

"Want one?" the werewolf asked of me, exposing a mouthful of meat as he spoke. I looked at the half chewed food in his friend's mouth disgust. Hal turned away from the sight. I hadn't had bread in three years but I took the sandwich politely.

_"Lin? Linny is that you?"_ a muffled, half-sleeping voice bubbled up from the small speaker.

"Hang on a minute Ags," I excused into the phone. I needed to be alone. I excused myself to the hallway. Noting that Hal was watching me like a hawk I blew him a little kiss to indicate I was onto him. He pretended to look at something else upon the ceiling. Men, when will they learn that we always know when they're looking.

As soon as I knew he could no longer see me I collapsed upon the steps. I had to grip the banister to stop my legs from collapsing under me. _Keep it together Linny, don't let him see you_ _loose it. _I swore into my hand. Shit. Fuck. Balls. I was a fucking **VAMPIRE**! Christ! _Could I even say that anymore without bursting into flames?_ I checked. _No flames, so blasphemy is cool? What about the sunshine, could I still summer in Cannes? Did I have to avoid Italian food, all that garlic?_ Pull it together you know it's not like that. _I mean, if I had known I was going to die, let alone live for-fucking-ever I would have … what? Thrown a party? Lost a few more pounds? This was just… incomprehensibly huge!_

I took a few calming, deep breaths. I placed my hand on my chest to feel for a rhythm. Nothing, just a gaping silent bag of toss-all.

Fuck me, I was starving. I stuffed the bacon sandwich in my mouth like a lapsed fat-camper. The food was soon out of my mouth and in my palm, where it sat like a soggy pink and doughy mess. It tasted like ash. _Brilliant!_ Ten years of anorexia and even life ever-lasting didn't have dietary perks. That was when I felt the real hunger hit me. I wanted to chew my own foot off! I sat on the squalid steps. _Keep it together babes. Keep it under control. _You're a vampire. You're craving human blood. That's how this works. Don't be surprised.

"_Lin! What's going on? It's, like, really early. Are you okay_?" came the voice from my phone. I slammed the speaker to my ear to take my mind off the dryness in my mouth.

"Aggie?" I asked, "Totally sorry to call so early." I checked my watch, it was five am.

"_Oh-em-gee, Linny!"_ said the young wannabe WAG at the end of the line. _"Sweetie, Happy Birthday! Where are you?"_ she didn't let me respond and immediately launched into my diary, _"So, like, I've got you in for your hair appointment at midday, the spa at two, then a dress fitting at five and then the surprise party is at seven, don't be late. I know how you get."_

"No, no, sorry, Aggie, we're going to have to cancel," I said, finding myself imagining the poor girl with her throat slit on the floor before me, and her blood like melted butter on my lips. I blinked the hallucination away.

_"Cancel!"_ Aggie spat, _"Do you know how long I've been planning this?"_ I could hear her rolling out of bed with my father.

"Something's come up. Need to run an Intervention for a friend. Have to stay in Cardiff…" I said, squeezing out the words with difficulty, rocking back and forth on the steps with my eyes closed to try and make the hunger pains go away.

_"An intervention?"_

"Yeah, look all that old AA stuff of Dad's? Can you scan it in and send it to my phone? I think it's in the study." I heard her slip on her clothes and pat out of the room.

_"Like, now?"_ she whispered.

"Pleeease, babes," I said, slotting on that vapid whine in my voice that always got me what I wanted from those people, "call it my birthday pressie."

_"Um, yeah, but I, like, brought you a new Marc Jacobs bag."_ On my Dad's credit card no doubt.

"Lovely, babe, look I'm going to be here for a while. Can you get Stu to pack up my spring wardrobe, my books, and the big box at the end of my bed and get him to drive the van here for me? I'll text the address."

_"Ugh, Linny…Cardiff?_" Aggie whined.

"Just tell everyone I'm at the Priory for now or something, okay? This is, like, _dead_ important." I echoed her speech patterns. Intelligent conversation just confused Aggie. It confused most of my circle. At least when I was killing vampires I never had to hide what I was for long, with everyone else it was a full time job.

_"Fuck, Lin! How long?_" she sounded concerned, I'm not sure why. I didn't know what to say.

I snapped. Something inside me bubbled up. I couldn't pretend anymore, "Look, just fucking send me the stuff asap Aggie or I'll tell Daddy how many of his employees you're screwing!" I hung up and threw the half eaten breakfast on the floor in a rage, "Stupid bloody whore!" I swore at the phone and, after wiping my hand on the carpet, I slammed my head in my hands. "Keep it together, Linny. You can do this."

"Hey, so look, are you okay?" asked a voice behind me.

Alex smiled warmly, when I turned to see her, although she was awkward with it. "I'm no' sayin' I know what te say or whatever, but you did just, kinda, die. You know? I can toh-tally relate," she laughed. "Vampires. Death. Death caused by vampires. One hundred percent my area o' expertise. Sooo, if ye need to talk, or… whatever."

I tried to put back that mask, super-duper-vampire-killer, madam-everything, but it didn't feel like it fitted anymore. My smile probably failed to deliver its usual assurances.

Alex patted my shoulder like I was a bomb that might go off if she exerted too much pressure, "Sucks, right? Sorry Hal killed you but he's a good bloke really. I only give him grief 'cause it, well, it just feels like the right thing te do I s'pose, since he did drink my blood and everything...not...that...he...didn't drink yours? Christ, sorry, I'm shit at girlie chats."

"A good bloke?" I laughed, remembering the stories about what the infamous 'Lord Harry' was like. "He's a vampire."

"Yup, ha-ha, an' so are you," she punched me in the shoulder lightly. I looked at her in surprise and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. In hindsight I think she meant it to be an affectionate joke. I didn't find it funny.

"I don't need the reminder," I explained, swallowing the bilious sensation that made me want to tear the head off the nearest thing with a heartbeat, something that didn't smell of wet dog.

"Well, so-ho-rry," Alex trilled sarcastically, "I'm just trying to help. No need to thank me or anything."

I corrected her, "No, you're just trying to be nice so I don't stake your friend. But, I will." My plans hadn't changed in that regards. I didn't care that Hal was trying to be 'clean'. He fucking killed me, and thousands of others! He was dust walking. Well, sitting.

"Christ, love, someone must've shit on you from a spectacular height! Cannae a person just want te be nice!"

"You're not a person. You're a ghost."

Alex threw up her arms, "Is that like a vampire motto or something!" She swore with abandonment and disappeared.

I sighed in relief. I needed to fix my face and I reached into my inside pocket, unconsciously removing the little foundation box and lippy I kept there. Taking off the top and flipping open the mirror I stared, open-mouthed, at the empty space reflected here. "Shit," I said. How the hell was I supposed to manage a decent ensemble without a reflection.

"You don' need that. You're like dead nice lookin' without all that stuff," came the thick twang of the werewolf at the doorway. He licked his fingers of the salt, "A lady should be natural," he said, as if he were quoting. Did Alex send him, or Hal?

"Mr McNair, I'm not a lady. I'm a vampire," I corrected, "I am an evil _creature_, not a human, and you shouldn't forget that." The truth, I had realised, was that I was a thing now. I was an _'it'_, no more human than the remains of that bacon sandwich.

"Naaah. Y're a _lady_," the young werewolf said, holding out his hand to help me to my feet, "I can tell by the way 'Hal looks atcha. All straight backed 'n proper like. 'E even got Alex to clean 'im up," he explained, "Been a right mess 'e 'as the last month. But t'look at 'im now y'd think Lady Di'd come fer tea."

"I _CAN_ HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW!" yelled Hal from the living room. "I AM RESTAINED, NOT DEAF."

"You're very sweet," I said, ignoring the protestations of my murderer.

"Anyway, I'm jus' sayin', I think it's dead nice that Hal's got someone to look aat for 'im. From your lot, I mean. 'Cause it ain't nice feelin' abandoned n' all. An' to know that Hal stayin' off the blood is doin' some good for other vampires, that's-like, proper brilliant news. No one likes to feel like they're sufferin' on their own, 'n for no one's sake c'ept themselves. I wish I could tell everyone 'ow proud I am of 'im y'know. But I guess I can't, what with all us bein' secret and the like. An' you like never touchin' blood, that's just..." He made a gesture like his head had exploded, and smiled. "Seriously mind-blowin' like. An' I suppose, if you think that you can help then it's great that it's someone nice. Not some scary big fella or nothin', 'cause, I don't think that would go daan well. Y'll sort it. I can just tell."

Suddenly, I realised that this young man was quite possibly the most surprisingly astute creature I had ever met. I wanted to hug him.

My phone beeped. Aggie had done as she had been told and sent my Daddy's AA notes.

_Step 1: I admit that I am powerless. _

_My life has become unmanageable…_ it began.

I bit my lip hungrily, knowing that it was true. If I didn't deal with this ache properly I'd be a slave to the thing I had become. I would have no life worth managing, let alone one worth living forever. If Hal had truly succeeded in starving himself of blood for so long, then I needed him to help me before I killed him. At least for now I needed him to trust me. I could do that, but it would mean I needed Hal to see that I could trust someone else, at least a little. 'Give a little, get a lot', that was something I learned from Mummy too.

"Thank you, Mr McNair," I explained, "I think Mr Yorke and I might need some time alone, if you would permit that. I promise I will take the best of care of your friend." Taking the stake from my back pocket, I handed it to him, "However, if you would be kind enough to look after this. Helping our friend is not going to be easy, and I suspect it will take its toll on me too. If everything goes as planned and I get what I need then you can give it me back. But, if I fail to get what I need then, in that instance, I would like you to stake _me_. Because unlike Hal, if I fail, then I might walk out of here and actually kill someone. I need you to promise me Mr McNair. Is that a deal?"

Mr McNair nodded, "A'right," he said, "but you said y'd never had blood?"

"Never, yes that's true," I nodded, "I've managed so far, but there's still 'forever' to go."

"Fine," Mr McNair agreed bravely, taking my stake and pocketing it, "But, like I said, y'll sort it, I can just tell w'people."

I truly hoped he was right.


	10. Part 10 The fall of Kitty Ford

**10 – The fall of Kitty Ford**

I would hardly say that I relaxed once Tom had returned Miss. Weaver to my eye-line, but I certainly felt better knowing she had not been permitted to leave. She needed to stay here. I needed her to stay here. It was critical for humanity that she _stay here_.

I noted quickly that the stake, which she had fought Alex for so furiously, was now tucked in my friend's trousers. It was an action which confused me at first. It seemed to contradict everything I had learned of her to date. What was she playing at? Was I safe from a staking? Had she said something to Tom about what I had done? I had missed the last of their conversation. God, please tell me he didn't he know?

I shifted in my position, clenching and unclenching my fists, counting each finger against my thumb in order that I might keep calm, "Everything alright, mate?" I asked nervously. The words felt alien on my tongue as I said them.

"Yeah, Miss. Weaver's jus' goin' to keep 'n eye on you while I'm at work like," he explained.

My eyes widened in horror. _No, don't leave me alone with her! _"I'll be fine with Alex, that's the routine, Tom. I need that. Where did she go?" I searched the empty space frantically.

Tom shrugged, "Dunnah, y'know what she's like." He lumped towards the ketchup smeared plate upon the coffee table. "Y'want me to wash this like?" he asked, scooping up the plate. The crumbs fell onto the surface of the table and I bristled.

"Shit, sorry!" he said, and did his best to brush the crumbs onto the plate with his paw. He was pleasantly house trained sometimes. I had screamed and bawled enough at him over the last few weeks to make a little difference then? Thank heavens for small mercies.

Tom looked to Miss. Weaver, "He's ever so tidy n'all, our Hal. I'll get this, then shower and down the caf'. Remember the rule!" Tom pointed at me, like he did every morning. We all had our little routines.

"I can do this," I parroted, as I had done every day, though perhaps he noted that the pride had left my voice.

"Too right, mate," Tom smiled, and gave me a thumbs-up. "Miss. Weaver," he nodded, hesitating as if he were going to curtsy. He blushed, scratched his head, and then took himself to the kitchen with a whistle. I noted he checked the scent of his underarms as he left. Luckily our guest did not see.

"Right then," said Belinda when we were alone. She slapped her hands upon her thigh, and sat herself, cross legged and poised on the arm of the sofa expectantly. "So, let's start with the important stuff. What's the trick then?"

"Trick?" I spat, enunciating every syllable with distaste. "I think you must have me confused with some kind of illusionist. I'm no Houdini. This is not a trick. I am not about to leap from this chair and bow for applause," I spread my sarcasm as thick as honey.

"I mean the trick to curbing the hunger. You have to eat something, right? What do you drink as an alternative, like rats' blood, pigs, something synthetic? Ha! Other vampires?"

"There is_ no _an alternative. It all tastes like waste," I explained. "You will vomit."

"Ew, really? Wait, you went there? Other vampires' blood?"

"I was blood-curious. It was a phase. We all have our moments," I blustered.

"Sort of like when I was at Chelts with Suzie Porter, locker-room, second period PE? I get it. What was your excuse, boredom? Mine was a bet. I wanted Suzie's Christina Aguilera CD."

"The circumstance was not, in the slightest bit, similar," I lied, recalling that there was the matter of five pounds, which I lost to Fergus.

"So, how do I keep hold of it then?" she was bouncing her leg up and down distractedly. I eagerly wanted to rest my hand upon it to stop it.

"Miss. Weaver, you're not making any sense."

"You killed me, you'd think we were on first name terms by now. You can call me Belinda if you want, _Henry_."

"I told you, it's Hal."

"I know full well what your name is, babes, I've done my research. But, I tell you what, I'll call you Hal if you'll tell me how you do it. Keep off the blood, I mean."

"Control," I sighed, and regarded my present circumstance with futility, "Control _and_ _confinement_. Everything else is simply prolonging the inevitable."

Belinda laughed like a bell, and shook her head in disappointment. Her hair was spotted with flecs of spring sunlight as the morning broke through the window blinds behind me.

She continued, "Hunny, you've just described my childhood. Don't be dull, that can't be _all_ that it takes. I'm not about to spend my life shackled to a sex-chair. I'd rather be kitty-litter. What about them?"

"Them?"

"The girlfriend and the wolf."

"Alex is_ not_ my…" I began, before realising she was teasing. I blushed when I saw her amusement. She was smiling from ear to ear. She was radiant with it. The sight stopped my chastisement short when I noticed something ignite, something tucked down deep in my dead memory, something that I had once terrorised lesser vampires for clinging onto.

The truth was that I had only ever seen a smile like that once before. It was the kind of expression which betrays the soul. In this case the remnants of the one I had taken from her, the ghost that was hiding in the creases at the corner of her mouth. That humanity always held on for a while, until the hunger ate it away, or until they had it stripped from them by someone like me. I found myself mourning the moment the moment when Miss Belinda Weaver would loose the spark.

"I'm sorry," I said, though it wasn't my confusion that I was excusing. "Really. Truly. Sorry."

There was no smart response this time. Perhaps my sincerity had surprised her? She blushed, as I had done, and I realised I had misjudged Miss Weaver all along. The confidence and control, which she wielded with such skill, were no more her natural state than delicacy and chaos were _my_ bedfellows. At the route of it all I knew that I was a compulsive, power-hungry man. I always had been, in every life. I fought against the anarchy of my youth, tried to bring about some kind of order, to myself, to those about me.

I suspected she was just desperate for a little freedom from the suffocation of her life to date. Vampire-hunting had been her little bit of chaos. Sooner or later she would throw away the pretense of control, and that was a concern, what would she be when her own shackles were shed?

"They are just my friends," I explained. "Friends help but, ultimately, the success or failure of any prolonged abstinence does not lie with them."

"That's not what I meant," Belinda sighed. She slipped her coat from her shoulders. I immediately saw the drying, brown stain of some of her blood upon the silk shirt, which she wore beneath the jacket. She tutted and scratched at the spot. "They're not _just_ your friends," she said as she tended to the mark, "They clearly love you for some reason. Why else would they do _this_? And you clearly love them too, or you wouldn't let them. That's trust, babes, and in my experience you don't trust people you don't love."

I suspected Belinda Weaver trusted no one, I wondered if she had loved?

"Vampires don't _fall in_ _love_, Belinda, not like that." I thought of Leo, Pearl, Annie, Tom, Alex. Had I trusted them? I squirmed, disliking where this conversation took my thoughts, it felt distasteful. I felt the urge to scream and rage at her, but something held it back. I didn't want her to see me like that.

"They 'don't', Hal? Or 'can't'?" she pressed, slipping the blouse to her mouth to suck the stain away.

"No!" I stopped her.

She dropped the corner of her shirt in horror, "It's… it's Ralph Lauren," she explained distractedly. "Dry clean only," she said and laughed away her actions as she slipped her hands underneath her skinny jeans.

I felt the panic subside, "To answer your question, they shouldn't." I thought of Daisy, Ivan, was that love? "It gets messy."

"Crumbs-on-table messy?" she asked.

"Bloody-train-carriage messy."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" she asked. If I had trusted her I would say there was something akin to care in her question. But I couldn't let myself believe there was anything but idle curiosity in her words.

I shook my head. I never had that. I had avoided _that_ since, well, since Kitty Ford.

"Whatever, look what I get is at the end of the day what you're saying is that I need to find something that is bigger than the craving right? Like, something more powerful? For you, it's all _this_. It's them. What if I find something like that too, then I'll be okay, right?"

She suddenly reached out and placed her hand upon my knee and I flinched in surprise. Was that an unconscious act? What did she want to do, lull me into trusting her, or show me that I was unable to stop her from doing whatever she wanted? I snapped my knee from her, suddenly acutely aware of my personal space. She retracted her hand with a plush smile. It was shaking. Was that the hunger?

She shook the tremors away, "Let's start with tea? God, please tell me I can still enjoy that!" she said.

I smiled with caution and nodded, catching myself imagining how Annie would flap in this situation.

_Tom-tom-tom! Did you see? There's a bee-__ute__-iful woman with her hand on Hal's knee in the living room, oh my God! _ I could almost feel her poking me in the shoulder from the hereafter,_Hal, __be __nice__!_

"Tea is still good," I encouraged. "Tea is a great place to start."

Belinda slipped to her feet and tromped into the kitchen. I watched her behind waddle away with amusement as she called back.

"Keep looking at my ass, Hally-baby, and I'll stake you somewhere that won't grow back straight."

* * *

><p><em>Step 2: We come to believe that a Power, <em>

_greater than ourselves, could restore us to sanity._

It was 1509, a magnificent year for wild strawberries, and although my namesake, King Henry VII, was dead, his son had fallen in love. He had married a Princess, Catherine. And there, all the way down the bottom of the food chain was I, Henry Yorke, 'young Hal'. With fifteen mothers and an obsession with the best techniques for conquering the lute, and I too was in love with a girl named Katherine. She was Miss Kitty Ford and she lived with her father at the local church. She was a goodly girl and it felt right that she be _mine_. If King Henry shall have a Catherine, then so shall I!

Love was in the air! The whole country was alive with it. Windows were dressed with ribbons of every colour. The streets had been washed with vinegar. Beggars were apt to be embraced by Baronets, and the bells in every church were ringing so loud it was as if the skies were shaking with joy.

I waited outside the church every day with a flower, or a ribbon, or a poem. Something small which I could sneak to her as her father scurried her away from me. He did not approve, and why should he given my heritage? But Kitty did not care, she would hold her hand behind me as she passed and I placed my tokens there for her later perusal.

Henry Yorke, Three-and-twenty and never been kissed. I would have Kitty kiss me, if it was the last thing I did upon this earth!

The peculiar thing about growing up with fifteen mothers, who give them selves to men for money every night, is that you are nothing if not protected from the luridness of the world by those same creatures. My mothers did _not_ want me growing up like their men. They wanted me to have a pure life, a better one than theirs. They would suffer so that I might have high hopes. I was going to be '_a great man_, _a good man, and your man, if you shall have me'_, I told Kitty in my letters, dreaming of her soft skin as I wrote. How it had been laid by God to be mine, as He lays the snow upon the ground come winter.

The day King Henry married was the day I had resolved to fetch my kiss. It was a blistering warm June 11th. My note to her, that day, begged her to turn about to the church garden after supper, unchaperoned! It was clandestine but I knew she would come. I could tell from the way she looked at me. She couldn't resist her curiosity about wild boy that lived at the brothel.

I stole into the oak tree after the celebratory service, climbing high enough that her father would not see. I watched her step into the garden, surreptitiously removing her slippers to walk her toes through the cool grass.

"_Hal?"_ she called in a whisper. I stayed where I was. _"Harry Yorke!" _she searched a nearby hedge, smelling the chrysanthemums, dancing those finger-tips through their petals. _ "Are you here, I have not long you impetuous b-"_

I had jumped down from the tree. I slipped my hand over her soft mouth. Oh, to have such lips upon mine! She bit my finger and slapped my shoulder. She was too strong a lady to be affrighted.

"Henry, you horrible thing. I shall scream!"

"No, you won't," I smiled and pulled her by the hand behind the tree. I pointed to the bark. There I had carved two names, 'Henry & Katherine'.

"If any one asks you can say it is a dedication to the King. The oak is strong, enduring, it lasts for centuries. And though one day they will cut down this tree and fashion its wood into a great house, or chapel, or the cot for a babe, it will take our names within its grain, and with it all the love I have for you Kitty Ford, which will last longer even than this tree."

She smiled, and it was like the whole world lit up. And then she kissed me. That was the last time I knew what it might feel like to love.

Her father's fist came down upon my temple.

"How dare you corrupt my child. You dirty, unclean bastard!" He proclaimed, ripping Kitty from my hands and throwing her to the floor.

I stood, dusted myself down and proceeded to beat down upon her father until he was blue, until the grass was black with blood. Kitty screamed and ran into the house, though I begged her to run away with me she would not. I picked up my cap from the garden, took one last look at the mess which I had made, and ran. I ran, and ran, and ran.

Five years later that boy died in Orsha. Six years later I was brave enough to go home.

I was a better man now, greater than a man.

I took myself to the Ford's chapel. It was 1516, the heady hopes for King Henry's love had fermented. There were no ribbons and parades, just the stench of rot lingering in the light of lost hope.

I found that they had cut down the oak upon which I had scratched that old, dead name. I asked a neighbour what had happened to the family and she told me the old priest had died and the child had been sent away. I pressed no further, cut her throat, fed my thirst and passed on like a ghost to my mothers' brothel, for more carnal sustenance. The boy who had longed for his first kiss was long gone by then.

Calling at the house I paid a few coins and took a woman. I did not plan to kill while I was there, not in the place I had been raised, at that time there was still some humanity paddling around in my gut. But not for long, it was when I was passing to my room that I thought I caught a glimpse of Kitty. It was through a door, ajar. I tossed the woman who I had paid for aside and ripped open the door to the room in which I thought I had seen that ghost.

There she was, so very different. All that magnificent soul had gone. This was not the woman I had loved. I shut the door.

"Oh My Lord, H-Harry!" she stuttered. I thought she would scream again, but she did not. The naked man who had been on her lunged at me, screaming something about 'interrupting his business'. I snapped his neck and he landed by the door with a wet thud.

"I shall scream," Kitty said deadly.

"No, you won't." Sitting beside her on the bed I handed her something for her modesty. She cried softly at first, slipping her foul-scented head upon my lap. As I ran my hand through her matted hair she told me how she had been cast out by her father. She told me how no one would marry a fallen woman such as her, how she had been taken in, how she had been spoiled by the guests. How she yearned for death but had not the strength to take her own life, fearing the hell that awaited her. She begged me to take her with her, "You said you loved me once, for longer than father's oak tree might live. You can make it better…" she begged. It was unbecoming.

In the end I resolved that it was a mercy to kill her, and with her death the last of the boy I had been passed from this plane. Leaving, with her blood in my gut, I embraced all that greatness before me, vowing to live longer than any stupid and ignoble lump of wood. I wished someone had been able to tell me how freeing it was before! I would not let another vampire suffer the pain of having to discover such elation on their own.

* * *

><p>Belinda returned with two mugs of steaming tea. She supped on hers and then placed her hand upon the strap at my right wrist.<p>

"No," I said, shaking my head, "I _will_ find a way to escape."

"Pppft! So what?" Belinda said, "What are you going to do, kill me? I'll make sure you stay put, trust me. But, honestly, if a man can't drink his own cup then we may as all give up and move back to the dark ages," she said. With one hand she loosened, and then removed, the strap, with the flourish of someone schooled in saddling a horse. She placed the tea cup in my shaking hand.

"So, I'm a man now then?" I joked.

Belinda smiled, "Drink up, Hal, we've got soooo much left to cover."


	11. Part 11 It's not getting what you want

**11 – **It's not getting what you want, its wanting what you've got**  
><strong>

"This is nice," said Hal, raising the cup a little in salute with a small smile. It was clearly taking him a good deal of strength to manipulate the mug.

"Yeah, I used to date this guy who was big into tea. He spent hours going on about how to brew a perfect cup," I laughed, and then shook away the memory, why was I telling him about Toph?

"There's an art to it, so I have been told," Hal said.

"Dunk, Dunk, Squeeze. Nothing to it," now I was giggling, _FFS Linny, stop flirting!_

When we heard his friend galumphing down the stairs and Hal stared at me in horror.

"_Take it!" _he whispered, shoving the mug in my general direction. "Take it, now!"

I obliged with amusement, snatching the mug back and holding both cups in my hands. Hal slammed his arm back down upon the arm of the chair and smiled at his friend, who had appeared in the doorway with a towel at his head, rubbing away the remnants of his shower from his scars. He had a soggy piece of toast between his lips, clearly having walked into his morning ablutions with his breakfast.

"Does he never stop eating?" I asked Hal, conspiratorially. The vampire let forth a small burst of laughter, at which Mr McNair seemed confused.

"I'll be back a lunch time to check up on yer, mate," said the werewolf with a mouthful of bread as he folded the towel and hung it over the banister.

"Lovely," Hal said, "off you pop."

The werewolf hesitated. "I could stay," he said.

I tried not to respond negatively, showing him how desperately I wanted him to leave would only encourage him to stay.

He continued, "It's never busy like. We could watch a DVD. Somethin' educational like…about flowers or boats or summit. Miss Weaver wouldn't mind wouldyuh?"

"Of course not, Mr. McNair, only…"

"…we need to talk about…" continued Hal.

"…vampire stuff," I completed.

"Yes, that's it! Vampire stuff. Boring, long-winded, exceptionally over-complicated, vampire stuff, Tom. Very dull, you would not be interested. Best go to the café, hm? We do have rent to pay after all?" said Hal, seemingly desperate to be alone with me now.

It was working then. He was beginning to trust me. Time for part two.

Hal's hand was shaking where he had placed it. He gripped on to the arm of the chair as if a wind might whip it into the air at a moment's notice. I put the tea down on the floor and rested my hand upon his to still the nervousness. His head jerked around to look at it, then up, at me. _Brown, like chocolate._

"Ahrigh' no need to bullshiiii…p me, mate, if yer just wanna be alone yer only 'ave te say. Miss Weaver," He winked at me, and as he turned to the door he tapped the stake protruding from his back pocket, "You'll look after our'Al right won'tcha?"

"I promise."

"Oh, an' Hal, if Alex turns up don' forget tha there's..." but, with that, he was gone, out the door and down the steps.

We were alone.

Hal snatched his hand from mine, "Would you be so kind as to tell me exactly what are you playing at, Miss. Weaver?" he snapped with accusation.

"Trust me, Hal, I know what I'm doing."

"You want me to trust you? In the name of all that is Holy, why exactly should I trust _you_? I have only just _met_ you! You tried to stake me…you say you're _going_ to stake me?"

"And, I will, I'm not lying to you about that, Hal. Sorry."

"Then why?"

"Because I _know_ what you are, Hal and I suspect that sets me aside from these friends of yours. I've heard _all_ the stories. Would they trust you if they knew _everything?_ Would they still _love you_? Because, for six months, all I've heard about is the amazing Lord Harry and what an example he is. You're famous, babes. They talk about the shit you did over pints of peoples' blood and try and plan ways to _top_ it. Why should you trust me? Because despite all that I know, and despite the fact that you saw fit to kill me and turn me into the living dead, I haven't staked you _**yet**_. And I imagine in life that's the best you can hope for from the people you trust?" Hal seemed suddenly speechless.

I picked up the tea and returned it to him, "Now drink up, there's a couple of logistics I need to…" My phone beeped.

_AGNES (DADSFUCK):_

_Linny did u get it,_

_hunny? Whats the address u_

_wnt ur stuff sent 2? :) :)_

_R we still frnds? 3_

"Uggh, sorry, have to get this." I texted Aggie the address for the B&B distractedly and knocked back the last of the tea.

Then something unexpected happened. It was an itch at first, right against my chest. I dropped the last dregs in the mug of tea when I felt it. It was like I had been bitten by a hornet. Then it happened again.

"Fuck, Ow!" I said, slapping at my chest uncontrollably, as if a swarm were attacking me.

"Belinda?" Hal asked, arching forwards as if he wanted to see if I was alright.

"Ow, shit, ow! What they hell," I repeated, slapping at my shirt. I tore it off in a panic and soon found the problem. I noticed Hal cover his eyes, but I was too obsessed with the burning sensation where my heart had been to acknowledge it. Hanging around my neck, searing itself into my body, was Mummy's old, notched crucifix. I tried to take it off. I tried to reach for it but it was as if the thing was magnetised to repel me. I couldn't get close to it. It weighed a tonne. I fell to my knees as if someone had kicked me in the back.

I looked up at Hal. He didn't seem to suffering any pain. "Hal, a little help?" I reached out towards his chair and tried to pull myself towards it, but soon the crucifix had weighed me down. I was on my back on the floor, pinned to the stagnant carpet like one of the old butterflies Mummy used to collect.

"Have you put your shirt back on?" Hal said worriedly, peaking from behind his shielded eyes.

"No, look, it's okay. I don't care about that…Fuck…Fuck…that burns! Hal's it's this cross of my Mum's… Uuuugh… Please, God, please take it off! I… I… can't," I felt so useless I wanted to cry. This wasn't the plan! My head felt like a dead weight when I tried to lift it.

"Fine," Hal prescribed with an exasperated sigh. Reaching one hand out blindly at first before giving up when finding I was out of his reach. He conceded, finally, to open his eyes. He blushed a little and then, with nervousness, he unstrapped his other hand, stretching it for a moment and shaking it to return the circulation. Then he reached to his waist so that he could loosen the binds there in order to lean forward and get to me. By the time he reached me I had realised he was practically free.

"You could leave me," I said with difficulty, feeling as if a giant was standing on my chest.

"Yes, I could," he smiled, "Trust goes both ways, Belinda."

He lifted my head gently, like he was lifting it from a silken pillow, took hold of the silver chain and unclasped it, carefully, as if it were the most valuable thing on earth. Still holding my head in one hand he unthreaded the chain from my hair, and carefully pealed the little wooden cross from my flesh. After softly returning my head to the floor, he tucked the crucifix in his pocket and rubbed his wrists. Then he closed his eyes again, as if to wipe the image of my body from his retina.

I sat up. Pawing at the flesh on my chest, fascinated to see it heal. I looked up at Hal. I couldn't express how grateful I felt right then. I was lost for words.

He blindly pointed in the direction of my shirt, "If you wouldn't mind."

_Step 3 – We make a decision to turn our will and our lives_

_over to the care of God as we understood him_

From where it lay on the carpet, my phone began to sing, Johnny Cash singing: _Cold, Cold, Heart. _It was my Dad. Breathlessly I grabbed my blouse, pulled it over my head and snatched at the phone.

"WHAT?" I demanded.

"_Young lady what is this I hear from Agnes you missing the party? Do you know how much it was going to cost me?"_

"I'm not coming. Deal with it. Have a drink."

"_Your friend has been in tears for a good hour because of your behaviour. You're going to come home this minute and stop with all this nonsense, do you hear?"_

"Fuck off Dad."

"_I beg your pardon, if your mother could…" _Oh, he really shouldn't have gone there.

"WHAT! Don't you FUCKING DARE mention her to me AFTER WHAT YOU DID! She's in a FUCKING INSTITUTION BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU UTTER SHIT!"

"_Belinda Veronica Weaver don't you use that language. What has come over you? Now, do as your told and drive home. We still have everything booked. We can forget all about this."_

"You are not my fucking boss!"

"_No, I'm your father. I pay your bills. I buy your clothes. I pay for your education. I feed you. Nine months and twenty-five years ago I created you, you ungrateful little girl. Now. Come home and enjoy your party like you've been told!"_

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I screamed and threw the phone at the wall. The screen shattered. I pulled myself to my feet and ran to it, kicking it. "Fucking piece of shit iPhone 4." I said drop kicking it towards Hal's head. He swerved. It missed him but hit the blinds and landed uselessly on the floor.

"Belinda, you need to keep control…"

"CONTROL! CONTROL! I'M SICK OF KEEPING FUCKING CONTROL!"

And that was when I lost it.

First to go were the ornaments on the fireplace, flung onto the floor and breaking apart like old eggs. Then it was the turn of the television, swiped from its table and shattered with a crash. Then the coffee table was tipped. The wood smashed as I stamped on it. I picked up one of the shards. I felt a rage in me that I had never been able to express before. But something in me had unclasped, something let it out. Hal, suddenly afraid, began to work at the remaining straps upon his ankles. But the stakes weren't meant for him. The sofa was my prey. Soon I was jamming, repeatedly, that bit of wood into the old sofa, tearing through the fabric and foam. I was going to rip the world apart, one piece of furniture at a time, and then…then…I thought wildly…Then I was going to start on the people, first those fuckers that said they cared when no part of them could comprehend the meaning of the word. I'd rip my father's throat out. I'd make earrings out of his fucking kidneys. I'd stick straws in their arteries and suck them dry. Then when I'd done with them I'd start on everyone who knew them, and then anyone who knew them and…and… I'd kill them all, that's what I'd do! I'd synchronise-swim in a pool of their blood. I could taste it. I could smell it. The whole world burned brightly, with a coppery tinge to the edges of things. I would take on the world, and I would tare it down with my teeth.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around me and held on tight.

"There, there," Hal said, "Calm yourself, Miss. Weaver. I'll look after you." I struggled at first, and then relaxed in his grip. Hal was free and sitting beside me amongst the chaos. He held me as I softly rocked with rage.

I was on the floor amongst the foam and the wood and the broken ornaments. My eyes were burning. I felt like I was crying but there were no tears. Blinking, the world came back into focus. It dulled back to a soft morning light. I wiped my chin, it was dripping with blood. I had bitten into my lip and found fangs where my normal teeth should be. As I calmed they seemed to retract. I panted with for breath that didn't come.

"We'll get through this," Hal reassured, "I'll get us both through this."

And that was when I kissed Henry Yorke. I did it because I had wanted to since the first minute I saw him, and I was a girl who always got what she wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>End of Part 1: There will now be a short intermission. <strong>

**Ice-cream and cola are available in the foyer.**

**Hal, Linny and the gang will be back after Easter – please keep your reviews coming! **


	12. Part 12 Compulsions

**So, after a brief intermission we're back. **

**Thanks for all reviews, they really do mean a lot. I love your comments.**

** Please note things are going to get very surprising from here on in so if we could keep spoilers out of the reviews that would be brilliant!**

**Enjoy. See you on the other side.**

* * *

><p><strong>12 – Compulsions<strong>

_Step 4 – We make a searching and fearless_

_moral inventory of ourselves._

I hadn't expected _that_.

I'm not sure what I _had_ expected went I dragged myself from the chair, heavy limbed, unthinking, to hold her back, to hold her down. Just to hold her. But I hadn't expected her lips to meet mine so tenderly.

When they did I had half imagined that, any minute, the softness of that kiss would descend into something feral. That the chaos of her breakdown would infect me as my blood had done her, and that we would both descend into that darkness together like some kind of carnal beast. In seconds my imagination took us, naked, all about the house, over every surface, tearing at each others' flesh like wild things. In reality we did not. We sat there, silently, lip against lip, as children kiss. I suppose I was also quite surprised by myself in that regard.

"You just kissed me," I said when, finally, she pulled away. I swallowed, unsure how to proceed. I pressed my fingers to my lips, as if to confirm that they were mine, and to confirm that my hands were my own once more, not the extension of some piece of uncomfortable furniture.

"You noticed then?" said Belinda, laughing. She rested her forehead against mine and pushed a few of her fingers through my hair.

I tidied it absently. It felt matted, unclean. I disgusted myself. "You just…you kissed me!" I shook my head in confusion. What was going on? I couldn't have _this_, whatever _this_ was it couldn't help either of us get through the hunger. I felt recovery slipping away from me every second I sat there. Fuck! What would Alex and Tom say when they returned!

"You're repeating yourself, Hal, it's cute but it's conversationally tedious. Would you like me to do it again?"

"No," I pushed her away and pulled myself onto the tattered couch, where I slipped my head into my shaking hands. "This…" I waved my arms at the terrible mess she had made, amongst which she now sat. I laughed, "This is…not fucking helping. Sorry." _Language, Hal._

"Would you like me to go?"

"No! Lord no! You need to stay here. Just… stay," I ordered, patting the air between us to demonstrate my point.

"Staying" she said, wrapping her own arms about her self as if cold now I had let her go.

"I need…What do I need? I need to think," I said and tried to stand. My legs fell from under me.

"Do you need help?" Belinda began.

I slipped my finger to my lips. "Shh," I instructed, "I need peace."

She put one of her fingers to her lips; lips that I could still taste upon mine. _Peaches and cream_. I wiped my mouth of the flavour. "Just don't move," I said and then, willing my limbs to move with some kind of grace, took myself into the kitchen. _Don't look at the back door, Hal, stay here, do what you need to do._

I returned, moments later, with a black bag broom and a dustpan. Thankfully Belinda had done as she had been told. She remained, finger upon lips, like a school child quietly pleased with itself, expecting a sweet. I placed my hands upon her shoulders, carefully, lifted her from the floor, to her feet and placed her upon the other sofa.

She sat pertly, "Hal, I…"

"Just, let me do this. I _need_ to do this. Then we'll… I don't know. We'll sort out the rest of this mess."

First I re-stacked the ornaments on the shelf. Not all had broken, thankfully. Those that I could find all the pieces for could be rescued. I handed the shards to Belinda, where she collected them in her lap, I would glue them later. The effort would be a welcome chore. Those that were irreconcilable I placed in the black bag. The coffee table was unsalvageable. I placed the veneered mdf shards in the bag and remains of the splintered tabletop I put safely behind the bar, where it could be later discarded. The television was returned to its stand. While the machine would no longer work we could find occasion to excuse its condition at a later date. Perhaps I would blame Alex, as payback for her infuriating teasing. I brushed up the splinters of table and glass dust into the dustpan and placed them in the bag too. Now I had to tackle the hardest job. After staring at the sofa for what seemed like only a few moments, scratching my head, I had it! There was a spool of grey tape by the bar. Tom had purchased it from the shop two weeks previously, when I had attempted to wake the neighbours at 2am. He had done so in order that, by surreptitious application, he succeeded in quieting my petulant screams and "getting' some bloody sleep, mate". It had taken me days to get the taste of gum from my tongue. Now I could put it to a much less humiliating use! I wielded it with a proud grin as I returned from the bar. Belinda smiled and clapped her hands together in silent congratulation. I then stuffed all of the foam back into the seats and patched up the holes with success, throwing a blanket over the mess and disguising the damage completely. Much better.

When the rubbish was discarded and the tools returned to their proper place I sat beside Belinda on the opposing sofa and looked at my achievement with pride. It was nice to be doing _something_ again. I felt like myself.

"What do you think?" I asked Belinda, curiously requiring her validation that the job was a good one.

"You do realise that's taken you the best part of an hour and a half?" she said, "I've never seen anyone so meticulous. I'm not sure how you've done it but, somehow, it's cleaner than it was to begin with."

I smiled and nodded with enervation, "Yes, it's not bad." I declared, and then found her lips on my cheek again.

I looked back at her in horror. "Would you mind not doing that," I sighed.

She laughed, slapped both of her hands upon either side of my face and planted a wet one on my lips again. I wiped. "Really, Belinda…"

My response induced hilarity. She grabbed her stomach and laughed roundly, leaning back in the seat and kicking her tremendous heals against the plastic.

"I'm not sure what's so funny," I insisted.

"You're _Lord Harry_!" she pointed, "Lord _fucking_ Harry – the stuff they told me you'd done, honestly it made my blood run cold. And here you are patting yourself on the back because you've fixed a sofa with three yards of gaffa-tape. It's just so damn cute. Christ, if those vampires that toast your escapades could see the real you I'd just…I'd just die…again. You're too adorable. I can't help myself. I want to kiss you all over."

"I'll have you know I was the scourge of Europe," I bristled with embarrassment, "for over two centuries."

"Why? Did they hide your marigolds!" she pouted and ruffled my hair like I was a child.

"It's not funny. It's how I manage my…"

"Nonsense, Hal. It's part of who you are. I find it exceptionally charming."

"You…you do?" Of all the things my routines had been described, 'charming' had never been one of them. "Most people think it's…"

"…mental?"

"A little, yes."

She shrugged, "It's not that bad. You think you're bad? I'm twenty-five and I've got an imaginary friend."

"You do?"

She nodded and blushed, "Seriously. Oh, oh, and I'm afraid of waxworks!"

"Waxworks?"

"Um-hum," she nodded excitedly, then bounced her heals under her knees, "Oh my God, and I steal stuff! All. The. Time! Not because I need to, but because I like to see if I can get away with it. Luckily the one time I got caught it was intentional, I found out that the security guard Harrods was a vampire. I walked out of there with dusty hands and free lipstick. It was a good day." She shuffled awkwardly where she sat, "I've never told anyone that before."

"I catalogue my books in order of thickness," I smiled, trying to put her at ease.

"I have three shelves of stolen silver salt shakers."

"I only buy cleaning products which have a primary colour on the label."

"At the weekends I tare out the last pages of all the books in WHSmith, _and_ I swap around the DVDs into different boxes at other people's houses! That last one's a bit evil I'll admit."

"I spent a year only drinking from people with one vowel in their name: Renee, Keneth, Hannah, Anna, Peter, Carla, Beth, Judy…Wait I don't think she counted, y is a vowel right? Shit."

"Pppft! I once stole an _entire_ ensemble…from Primark!" she laughed. It was still there, that spark in the corners of her smile.

"Hal, you're…you're staring."

"I was? Sorry. It's just…"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No, I mean, well yes, there is something..."

"Shit, where?" she said in horror, wiping at her mouth frenetically. She reached for her coat and retrieved the compact within. "Fuck I can't look in a mirror," she said, throwing it back. She pointed at her face, "Can you get it for me?"

_Charming, simply, utterly charming_, I thought, now that word had been uttered it was all I could think when I looked at her, "No, not something_on_ your face. Just, there's something _about_ it."

"What? Crap. I'm stuck with this thing aren't I? I mean it's not going to change now, right, can vampires have cosmetic surgery?"

"No, it won't change. You'll look like that for a long time. Look, never mind, it's nothing. I wonder where Alex is. We should discuss what to say about…" I looked at the chair in which I had been sat for the last month. Strangely it felt as if I no longer needed to be confined. I was deluding myself, wasn't I? The cycle couldn't have been broken so easily. Had I reverted, now all that blood was in my system? I wondered who this new person was, sitting beside his, surprisingly engaging, walking regurgitation. He certainly still felt like me. Then again, didn't they all?

"Don't you dare give me _that_!" Belinda snapped, smacking me around the back of the head to break my thoughts from their circling.

"What was that for?"

"Garden-path much? No changing the subject! You can't tell a lady that there's something about her face and not follow through. Where did you learn your manners? Do you want a chew on my boot again? Don't think you're out of the woods yet, Vlad, there's still a stake with your name on it. Cute anxiety disorders or not."

"It's simply," I flustered, notably sucking on my teeth as I recalled the displeasure of her shoe. I had a sudden urge to clean them and ran an index finger about them as she stared at me, "you're still so human, that's all," I said.

"That's _all, _what did you expect?" she looked at her watch, "It's 8am. I've only been a vampire for a few hours…"

"To be truthful, a few hours is already quite astonishing. You've probably broken some kind of record. Most have satiated themselves by now."

"Well, maybe there's a reason I'm holding back?"

"A reason?"

Belinda rolled her eyes, "Men, it doesn't matter how old you are; you really are totally bloody thick sometimes."

I shrugged with abandon.

She sighed, "Don't be obtuse. Okay, so I'm starving, I'll give you that. It's all I can to not to start burying through the wall with my fingernails to get into the house next door. I'm as surprised as you, but I've been sitting here for a whole hour and I've worked it out. Haven't you?"

Still nothing, my mind was drawing a blank.

"There's something I'm craving a whole lot more than blood right now," she led.

"Shoes?" I offered, clutching at straws.

"Don't be predictable," she locked onto my eyes with hers, they shone with true beauty, like Arabian sapphires, "It's you, you old fart. You! I want you, babes."

* * *

><p>A gentleman never kisses and tells, so everything that happened after that is between me, Belinda, and a God whom neither of us will ever meet.<p>

* * *

><p><em>After<em> we made love Belinda caught me humming Sonny & Cher's _I got you babe_. I will admit that it wasn't one of my best vocal performances. It wasn't intentional, I explained. I wasn't sure then where the inspiration came from, "I hated the 60s," I said distractedly, "I was damn glad when they were over."

Belinda smirked in my arms, "I've never driven a man to song before. It's … new."

"It doesn't mean anything."

She laughed, and then she sang it back to me, in my ear, as we made love again.

For the next two hours we did little else. For a while, for both of us, that gnawing hunger dulled with delightful distraction. It was a glorious blur. Had I known that, not long after, everything would get so messy, I would have tried harder to remember the details. I once told Annie that forgetting nothing was a terrible thing, but not this. If I could hold onto those few hours in crystal clarity, it would have been no tragedy. There is one thing that I know will stick with me. Until my dust finally settles the sound of Belinda's honeyed tones, singing '_I got you babe',_ will linger in my ear.


	13. Part 13 The exact nature of our wrongs

**13 - The exact nature of our wrongs**

"Colin," I laughed. We were curled up on the sofa. My head was on his chest, I searched for a heartbeat. The silence was enthralling. "That was his name."

"The first man you loved was called Colin? I didn't think people could love men called Colin."

"I didn't say 'first love' I said 'first shag'!" I slapping him on the stomach, "Your turn."

"Ow! Elizabeth," he coughed in surprise, "Actually, thinking about it, that was the name of the first few. It was popular back then."

"Did you kill her?"

He nodded apologetically, "To be honest the whole sex thing was an accident. I got carried away."

"What, like you tripped and fell?"

"No, I was hungry. One thing led to another, it's a dangerous arena. Normally."

"Wait so you didn't, you know, do the bad-thing until after you were turned?"

"That's shocks you? Times were different. Don't let Hollywood confuse you. Most people were all firmly dead from the waist down until marriage. Those that weren't wished they were after they dipped their wick in communal cups."

"Eww, STDs! _Not _a sexy-time conversation. Quick change of subject. Worst looking?"

Hal scratched his head, "There was a girl called Belinda."

I slapped him again, "Oh you're a funny vampire. My sides are splitting. Where's that stake?" He pulled me away from my bag and held me back from my pursuit. I'd have to try a different tactic to get what I needed.

"Look, I don't know, I was never really preoccupied by faces."

"Fine, weirdest place?"

"Does 'up against Westminster Abbey during the Corronation' count?"

"Which one?"

"The last seven. It was a bet. You?"

"Under a bush, Scarfell Pike, Three Peaks Challenge, final year of St Andrews. We had to hide from hikers, it was prickly."

"Most romantic evening?" Hal asked after a moment, clearly enjoying the game now, perhaps he was going to try and improve upon my suggestion. I imagined he would take great pleasure in trying to plan something romantic.

"Breaking into Greenwich Park Observatory with my boyfriend," that pricked up his ears, "Ex. Picnic on the meridian line, and a proposal at midnight."

"Tough to beat," Hal smiled, "His idea?"

"All mine. I spent three months dropping into conversation how I was reading about Harrison's clocks, how I wanted a telescope, how dates and times had significance, how I loved sneaking into parks when I was a kid, oh, and how I wouldn't put-out till I had a ring on my finger."

"You said 'yes' then?"

"I was fifteen! I was never going to say 'yes'. I just wanted to see if he would have the balls to propose. That was Colin."

"And people say _I'm _evil."

"You are. He's a broken heart maybe, but at least he's alive."

"True. Look, Belinda, that's not me, not anymore. I'm trying to be...better, to right some of those wrongs. That's what all _this _is about."

"The wolf and the ghost, and the whole S&M set up? It's not working brilliantly is it?" I explained, "You need to change it up a bit, Hal. If I'm going to stick around," what was I suggesting, did I want it to work? Christ, I could just imagine bringing Hal home to meet Daddy, that would end well. I couldn't tell Mummy, I'd never get her back. And what about the plan? was this what I wanted?

"Will you?" he asked. Was it cruel to give him some kind of hope? He continued, his mind was dancing over some kind of future, "I've only ever done this alone."

I shrugged, "I don't know, babes, this is all very confusing. I came here for one reason and, well there's a lot of the water under the bridge with you. Some of the things you've done…have you even faced them?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I get the feeling your running, Hal. You're not facing up to this mountain of stuff you've done. You're focusing on little things, getting through the hunger, fixing broken ornaments, tables, straightening book edges…you're not seeing the big picture. You'll never succeed until you face up to everything you've done. You're blaming someone who you claim 'wasn't you', but it was you, Hal. It is. It's not some monster inside. I understand that now. I have that same 'monster' in my blood and it's no different. It's not some alien parasite, or some crazy person, or some demon, it's real and it's me. Maybe there's a way, maybe you need to atone?"

"There's only so many ways I can apologise, Belinda, I'm sorry I killed you. Really. But there's not much I can do about it now."

He sounded pissed off that I was bringing it up again, but I wasn't talking about me. "Excuses again, Hal, I'm not fucking talking about me. You really don't need to apologise to me, trust me I'm no angel. I'm not worth anyone's love or pity, least of all yours."

"How can you say that!" Hal seemed astonished. He didn't understand.

"Look, I'm perfectly aware of my faults, babes, I just don't think you are. You think that your problem is OCD, or some kind of addiction, it's neither. Fuck, I've bust my phone so I've not got the list anymore, but I'll tell you one thing I remember about Dad's AA 'journey' or whatever they called it. He had to actually admit what his problem was, and it wasn't the alcohol, it wasn't because he was a coward, it wasn't my mother, or the House, or work, or me. It was him. He was the problem. Get real, Hal. It's not the vampire that's the serial bloody murderer, whatever name you use, it's you, Henry Yorke."

There was a knock at the door. _Shit. No, I need more time! Go away! I can do this differently!_There was a better way. I know that now, but it was too late. She was here. "Great, perfect bloody timing," I sighed and threw myself back into the sofa with despair.

Hal sat bolt upright, the small hairs at the back of his neck were standing to attention. He tried to crane his head to see the shape peering at the blinds.

"That's not Tom, he has a key, and he's not due back for another two hours. Alex rentaghosts to the point of distraction," he whispered in a panic. He'd cotton-on soon enough. He was smart. _Come on Hal, work it out._

I took the opportunity to reach for my bag, pulling it closer and taking what I needed from inside. When Hal turned back to look at me I saw the hunger in him again. His eyes were black. His blood was up.

"Calm down, babes, it'll only make it worse." I was slipping on my bra, a clean shirt from my bag.

"There's a human at the door." He pointed at the door, "What the fuck is another human doing here? Is there a big sign above the door saying 'Drop in, Hungry vampire, Get eaten'?" He snapped with sarcasm, "This isn't good. I'll let her in. Don't let me let her in." He was grasping the edge of the sofa I thought he might break his knuckles.

I could smell it too. There was a distinct whiff through the letterbox, like sweet biscuits and cheese. She was late, but I wasn't going to complain. I had been able to have some fun while I waited. There had been the possibility of another way, but it was gone now.

"Hal, do you trust me?" I asked calmly.

"Yes. Why? OW!" he spat, as he noticed the needle which I had jammed in his soft backside. I only planned to use it in an emergency. This counted.

"Then I'm sorry, babes, but I did warn you."

"Wh…wh…w" he slurred. I kissed him again as he collapsed in an unconscious heap. I promised myself I wouldn't kiss him again, even if I wanted to. It wasn't fair to tease, not on either of us.


	14. Part 14 The Horrors at Highcastle House

**14 – The Horrors at Highcastle House  
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In hindsight, I think that perhaps it was cruel, clandestine, even heartless, to seduce Hal, but I had to pass the time somehow. I knew that this was the easiest way. I gave him two opportunities to leave, once with mummy's cross, then when daddy called. He could have run away. He could have even staked me. He didn't. It was too easy. I knew I had him then. It would have been a shame to see him off into the vac bag without having a little fun while I could. At least, that's what I kept telling myself as I made my way to the front door. It couldn't be because I felt anything for him, could it?

I said I planned to kill Hal, and that was true. I never lied about that, but I never intended to kill him quickly. True, I nearly got carried away when I had first arrived, I'll admit that, but I suffered the consequences for it. Patience isn't normally a virtue on these jobs. Had he not decided to kill me I can say I probably wouldn't have followed through. I had a plan that required a little restraint because there was something I wanted more than a five minute kill. I needed something, and more importantly I needed Hal alive to get it.

Unfortunately, due to my untimely death, my plan had needed to evolve. I can blame surprise vampirism and the cuteness of my prey, the need to quell a wide array of hungers, but the truth is that the change of plan was all the fault of a surprising amount of traffic on the M4; or so our guest effused when I opened the door and let her in.

"Blow me you should see the tailbacks on the bridge!"

She shook the rain from an umbrella upon the mat and declared, "Ooo, is this the feind? Put some clothes on 'im m'lady, no one wants to see that before breakfast!"

I held onto the wall, imagining it was glue, holding me back from ripping her apart.

"Henry Yorke, in the flesh," I joked, thinly.

"Are you alright, love, you look terribly peaky. Oh, 'Appy Birthday! Shall I put the kettle on?"

"Yes, yes. Do _that_. I'll sort him out. Two sugars. No milk."

In my defence, I never lied to Hal. I really did want him. Looking at him lying useless on the couch, almost innocently, I realised I that desire hadn't changed. But, like he had said, I need to keep control, and abandoning my whole purpose in coming, for the sake of a quick fumble in the jungle, was slipping close to the edge of the kind of chaos and selfishness I couldn't afford. There was too much at stake, so to speak. After all it wasn't just for me that I was here! Mrs Simm should be grateful for that. If I didn't know that in the back of my mind I was doing this for Mummy, I'd have killed her before her umbrella was closed.

I realised, as I dressed Hal, Love really is stronger than the hunger in the end.

* * *

><p>Mummy was 'old money', which meant she didn't have any. Daddy was 'new money', which meant he had more than he needed. That was why they married. He made his mint in the eighties thanks to some smart investments, but he wanted a title. Grandpa needed money to renovate the family home, Highcastle House in Kent, so it was a done deal. There was never much love between my parents. I knew that even as a child, but it was fine, for me that was normality. I boarded. Daddy worked. Mummy stayed in Highcastle and helped oversee the renovation. That was our family.<p>

The last time I saw Mummy the way I want to remember her was when I was seventeen. My Grandfather had died that year, and so, when I was home from Cheltz and Daddy was out the country, I was taken to Highcastle. That was the summer when Mummy taught me everything.

Highcastle was notorious, but of course I didn't know this as a teenager. Daddy had a plan, "Ghost hunters!" Mum explained. "That's your Father's scheme anyway. He says there's lots of money in it these days, telly programmes, tours, psychic conferences," she shuddered, "Personally I find it distasteful. Even if there are such things as spirits, and even if there are some here, charging money to bother them in their rest doesn't seem right. They're family. Some of them, I should think, have been bothered enough."

She took me ona tour of the refurbishments and gave me the family history, again, via the paintings on the walls, "Before your father and I married I was a Highcastle..."

"I know, Mummy, can I go out now?"

"...I am the last of that family line by name, and you are the last by blood. That probably means nothing to you right now, but once you hear about how miraculous that is perhaps you'll change your mind."

Most of the paintings, all beautiful, I knew of course: stately, repressed women; over-dressed men, dogs and horses and several studies of the old draughty house. I never liked Highcastle. It gave me the screaming heebie-jeebies. They had started setting up 'diorama' in some of the unused rooms. They had Tussauds create some waxworks of old family members and had them sitting playing cards, or warming themselves by fake fires. Those rooms smelled funny, and weren't nice to be in when the lights were out. Sleeping in a building full of fake people was not easy. During the tour Mummy knew I wasn't keen on those rooms, so we gave them a wide berth. It was when we got to the basement that she started on the ghost stories.

"In truth most of the family have lived in the central of London since the mid-nineteenth century. All those lovely people in those lovely paintings stopped coming here after... Well, you can put it down to marriages, births, the attraction of the city, but I think the truth is that they were afraid of the place." Mummy sat me down amongst the dusty old wine bottles, summer garden games and white-washed walls. It was cold, damp and cloying. She pulled up a tea-chest and sat down. "I don't want to frighten you, Linny, but you need to know that something very nasty happened down here." Mummy held my hand, "I found out about it while doing my research into the house. The family buried it well, but if I want something, I always get it. Patience and persistence sweetie, that's the trick, remember it. If at first you don't succeed…"

"…Try, try, try again," I finished.

"They never found the men who did it because back then it was down to the military and the council whether a criminal was found. I suspect the men were from the military and since the Highcastle family were the law in these parts back then it was all hushed up. There was little that the families of the people who were killed could do, I imagine."

"People died here! Brillant, there goes my beauty sleep. Thanks Mum!"

"Yes, people died here, Linny, people die in most houses. You shouldn't be afraid of that. There are worse things in the world than dead, and this is a story you need to hear."

"Fine, _then_ can I go shopping?"

Mummy nodded, " From what I can tell it happened sometime in the winter of 1855. Most of the family were in London for the Season, but some were here, along with all the staff. It was probably sometime before Christmas when they were all killed."

"OMG All?"

"The servants yes, women, men, children, but mostly women. Twenty-odd in all, I suspect. But there was one survivor. Her name was Sarah and she was the youngest daughter. It's from her blood that the rest of our family has flourished. She was a survivor, my sweet, and so too are we!"

"What happened?"

"Until recently I didn't think I'd discover it, but with your father's harebrained plan has come some interesting perks. I met a lovely, if strange, lady who has insisted she can communicate with the dead. I invited her to see if she could contact Sarah! Isn't that fun!"

I have to say, when it came to a 'fun' summer holiday, communicating with spirits hadn't been in my itinerary: Sunbathing, shopping, lawn croquet, horse-riding, more sunbathing, yes; séances, fuck-no.

Mrs Simm was in her forties and smelled of cheese. She arrived after supper and went from room to room to find the best "vibrations". When she had set everything up Mummy and I were led to the lower sitting room, the one half full of waxworks. The lights were off but there was some light. Mrs Simm had placed tea-lights on the card tables and mantles. On the largest table, in the centre of the room, there were three, large church candles. As Mummy led me to a seat I watched the half-lit statues like a hawk. When I finally thought it safe to turn my back on one I took hold of Mummy's arm, _"One moved!"_ I insisted in a whisper.

"Don't be silly, sweetie. Now Mrs Simm, as I said on the phone I certainly can't promise a contract but we would very much like to see what you can do. Why did you pick this room exactly, there are certainly more significant locations."

"You mean the wine cellar? The spirits say don't like people going 'down there'," Mrs Simm explained, "Especially not the young ones." She spoke like some sort of crazy person, seemingly unable to look in our eyes. "There's good energy here. They say their own Madam had séances here too, back when my kind weren't ridiculed. And Lady 'Ighcastle, please excuse me but I don't want a contract."

"You don't? But you said on the phone!"

"Yes, Maam, but I don't think I should like to be on television, for that matter, I shouldn't like to spend too much time here. So shall we begin? You wanted to speak with someone particular?"

"Sarah," Mummy said, "My great-grandmother, Lady Sarah Highcastle, 1838 to 1923."

Mrs Simm took up my hand, and Mummy's. We too joined hands, and then the medium started rocking. This went on for twenty minutes. Muttering, and shaking. Shaking and muttering. At first I was afraid, but it soon became tedious. I was starting to get hungry and uncomfortable in my seat, and was about to break the circle to get a sandwich, when something happened to Mummy. Her hand clamped down on mine so tightly that I called out in surprise. Mrs Simm's eyes opened and she stared at my mother between us.

"Well, bugger me, that's never happened before," she said, her ethereal mad-woman tone dropping to betray a Yorkshire drawl.

"What?"

"That!" she nodded at my mother, "Fuck." My mother was bolt upright, holding mine and Mrs Simm's hands in a vice. I tried to let go of the medium with my other hand but I couldn't, it was like we were glued together.

"Fuck! Fuck, what? Is that bad?" I screamed at Miss Simm.

"The language of young ladies these days! I'd have been whipped if I said such things!" said Mummy.

"Sorry mum," I blustered.

"Goodness, dear, I'm not your mother," clarified whatever was using my mother's voice, because it certainly was not her own. "Now, this had better be important, you know. I have things to do. It's lovely to visit family but…well there's WI meeting on the other-side and those Victoria sponges won't judge themselves. Death is no excuse for a poorly risen sponge, that's what I say."

"S…Sarah?" I asked.

"Lady Highcastle, young woman, if you would be so kind. The things I had to do to get it. Dear me, there was marrying cousin Wilbur, your Great-great grandfather, for a start. He was no picture."

I was speechless. My tongue had gone dry. All I wanted to do was shake my mother out of it, whatever it was. But Mrs Simm had clearly been well instructed to deal with the event, "Lady Highcastle, the present owners of the property would like to know more about the tragic events which you survived when you were a girl. If you wouldn't mind."

"Well, I do mind. I swore to father that I should never speak of it, what kind of creature do you think I am that reneges on a promise. Dear me, what has the world come to," she leaned in towards me, my mother's eyes seemed strangely blue. "If it is the done thing to fail to keep one's word then I am very glad I am dead. Keep your promises, my dear, or goodness knows what kind of reputation this family will get. You'll never get a husband if you have a reputation as a welcher."

I nodded, "Yes, but, I told you Mummy, I don't want a husband."

"WHAT!"

I squirmed. My fingers were being crushed by her grip, "Ow, you're hurting me."

"You don't want a husband! I didn't crawl out of a pit of bloody serving girls and fight off those vipers to have you profess yourself above marriage young woman. The nerve of it! Not wanting a husband? I bet you're one of those modern types that believes it acceptable to raise children on one's own…hm?"

"I don't want children either."

"Oh, this is above reason, what in goodness name are you good for then girl? Very well, I understand now why your mother wants you to know the story, and be damned with all those useless ghosts that want to protect you from it. They were foolish enough to let themselves be ripped to pieces and so I don't care what they say. You shall hear it, my dear, and I pray that for their sake, if not my own, or yours, or even your mother's, that you go out and embrace that life you seem so desperate to waste."

She pulled me in close, and told her story. "There were only two of them. They arrived at night, in the rain, claiming to be on their way back from the Crimean front. I have no doubt that is true for there was the memory of War in their eyes. No man can shake that look. Turning away soldiers who required sustenance was a hangable offence, so my brothers offered them a room. Cook served them some of our meal. We had a jolly conversation around the supper table, a game of cards, they had a pipe or two with my brothers and finally turned to bed. They were charming, erudite souls and we all felt very safe. It was not long after all were in their beds that I was roused. They went from room to room, silently. Stifling the cries of those they surprised as they dragged us into the wine cellar and locked us within. My brothers were already dead by then, I never saw them again until I reached the other side. There was such order to it, the way we were herded like cattle. At first I thought it was all planned in advance until I realised that the taller fellow was acting upon orders from the one with whiskers. He was the smart one. I saw that immediately. We huddled in the corners as if, by some miracle, the walls might shield us from the monsters who had caged us, but it would be no use. When the basement was full the smartly dressed fellow began.

'Good evening,' he said, and I shall never forget his words, 'Firstly, an apology, it was very rude of my friend and I to retire without thanking you for your hospitality. Trust me, we are very sorry for it. Fergus, if you would…' he goaded his friend with a smile.

The taller one then interjected, saying, 'Thank you, it was all very lovely'. They had given different names before, I learned this one's true name only then.

'Well done,' the smart one congratulated as he slipped off his red coat with care. He handed it to his friend, 'Secondly, it is my duty to inform you all that each and every one of you will soon be dead.'

That was when the screams began. The taller one simply laughed, while his cunning friend hushed us all. 'Please,' he sighed, 'screaming is tedious, pointless and noisome…unless asked for. The next one of you that makes a sound will go first.' That stilted the cries. 'Good. Now, Thirdly, I have a question, by a raising of hands please could you tell me who has family that might come looking for them?' At first no one responded, 'Let me be clear', said our host, 'either I send Fergus into the village and we bring everyone here, or you can direct us to your loved ones and the rest will be spared. Is that entirely clear?' There were nods. Most that lived in the village worked at the house, but there were a few whose hands were then raised. 'Fergus, take the names please.' He said, removing his shoes.

'My Lord, you will control yourself?' the man named Fergus asked.

It was a comment that was met with derision, 'Fergus,' he said, 'we have enough for a week, be assured I can be restrained if I wish it. Let me see, as a gesture I will promise to save one for you. Which shall it be, hm?'

It was then that Fergus pointed at me, hungrily. Though I had been cautious to remain hidden he had clearly identified me earlier that evening and chosen me for his prize. Our captor patted his friend upon the shoulder like a brother, 'Always the pretty ones, Fergus, very well. One of the daughters, if I'm not mistaken? It's not normally the done thing, Fergus. Protocol dictates: family first, servants second.' What was this man to speak of such things with care for societal rules?

'I thought you liked a challenge my Lord?' Fergus cautiously joked, and so with a laugh, as if they had come up with a great idea for a comic song, I was spared, if you can call it that. My sisters, friends, the rest of the staff, lasted no more than three days. If the viper was showing restraint then I should hate to see what abandon might have looked like. I cannot say what he was, but he was some kind of monster. The things he did…" Mummy shuddered. I felt a cold wave of fear pass from her and into me like a wind. "Lord Harry. That was what he called himself, the nerve of it."

"On the Sabbath, or what I thought was that day, he caught me praying. I was clutching at a ring my father had given me which had been marked with a piece of scripture. I had taken to reciting the words under my breath as I watched him slaughter my friends one by one. He snatched it from me and read it, _'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'_ It amused him. He saw fit to show me there was no God, and that not only should I be afraid, but that I should fear him, by displaying the kind of violation of nature he was. He took up the last of my siblings, Jane. I had been hiding her under the bodies, or at least I thought I had succeeded in hiding her. He must have known about her all along. She was only seven. He made me beg before he…"

Her story faltered there. I did not need the murder described. I could see it all in my mother's eyes.

"I shall never forget what he said when he was done. Calmly, he turned to me and whispered in my ear, 'What kind of God would let a thing such as I live and a babe like that die, in a place like this. There is no salvation here.'

I should think he was going to kill me then, but his friend interrupted, informing us that he had found one of the ladies-maids hiding in the rafters. He asked if he could kill her. 'Protocol, Fergus, protocol. I'll come up shortly. Keep her company would you, while I finish up here?'

Fergus was clearly worried about his friend's ability to restrain himself, 'Of course, but,' he began. But I do not think 'Lord Harry' liked to be interrupted. He hissed at his friend, who promptly left. The viper pocketed my ring and smiled, 'My friend thinks I have forgotten my promise,' he said, 'but in truth, I have plans for you. You see I think my friend has become a little lazy during the War. He's not had to work for a meal in a while, and, well if I'm honest, I feel like I'm doing all the work. What do you think?' I was astonished that this half-naked demon, covered in my sister's blood, could dare wish for my opinion, 'So I think I want Fergus to work for his dinner, how about we have a game?' He took a key from his back pocket and then pointed to the window opposite. 'I shall send my friend down shortly. Let's see how far you can get? I wager five pounds you'll not be dead before dawn; he's not as fast as he used to be and you look like a fighter.' He pushed the key into the remnants of Jane's innards, which he had strewn about the place like bunting. And then he left."

"You…you got away?"

"Yes, my dear, and that life, which I escaped with, is running through that blood of yours. Be a lamb, and put it to some use."

With that, Mummy let go of my hand. She was back, but she was never the same, not after that. The idea to use the old house for ghost-hunts lost its appeal when Mummy lost her grip upon reality. Highcastle fell into disrepair. Eventually it was condemned, then leveled. Daddy had flats built on the land. I remember once, just before she was taken away, that Mummy tried to explain to me what was wrong with her. She said it was like someone had opened a door in her head for anyone to walk through. The doctors said it was a form of dissociative personality disorder, a kind of schizophrenia. Daddy said it was embarrassing. I'm ashamed to say that it wasn't until recently that I believed my mother was anything but ill; mistreated, yes, but still ill. After I staked Toph I realised there was more to my world than I could explain. I realised that I had spoken with my great-great grandmother that day, and that Mummy was had been plagued by the dead ever since. But it wasn't until I met that vampire in Chelsea that I heard the name 'Lord Harry' again and realised what had really happened at Highcastle.

I found Mrs Simm, now in her fifties, and still smelling of cheese. She said she might be able to help Mummy close the door. But that I needed to find something to help her do that. I needed Sarah Highcastle's ring.

* * *

><p>I had found more than I had expected at Honolulu Heights, but as yet, I hadn't found what I had needed. Once I had sorted out Hal, dressed him, made sure he wasn't going to cause a ruckus when he woke, or kill Mrs Simm as he had done me, I ran upstairs to begin the search.<p>

I started with the neatest room, presuming it was Hal's, and began to tare through it. I'd shred the house to rubble if required, but if I couldn't find it this way then at least I had plan B sitting downstairs.


	15. Part 15 Of whom shall I be afraid?

**15 – Of whom shall I be afraid?**

When I woke there was a fat woman, a human, on the sofa opposite and I was lashed back in that godforsaken chair. I tried to call out for Belinda, Alex, Tom, anyone. I tried to rage against the confusion and madness of it all. But it seemed someone had had the same idea as Tom and put the gaffa-tape to good use. Stifled, I couldn't say a word. What the hell was going on?

"Shush your fretting. The Lady says you're a biter, love, it's for the best."

_Lady?_

"_And _she says you've got a smart mouth that gets people killed so you're to be quiet while she's busy. We'll get to you in a bit."

_Busy? Get to me? _

"This is a lovely place," said the fat lady, wafting her hands about on an imaginary breeze, "Fabulous energies."

I realised that she was a bloody medium. I hate mediums. They either insist on telling you a great deal about things you already know, or get everything spectacularly wrong. They also taste bad.

"Lots of sadness here. Lots of death. Ooo it's like Christmas for someone like me."

Give me fucking strength. _I'll give you 'lots of death' you preternatural fucking orca._

"Hush now, I've something coming through," she put her fingers to her temples and hummed, "Annie says, 'stick with it, you're doing smashing champ'. Does that mean anything?"

Had I not been _stuck_ dumb, I would have been struck dumb. I searched around me as best I could. Annie!

_Oh God, Annie, help, where are you!_

"No, no, love. She's not here. She's dead. I'm a medium. I'm communing with the spirit world." She dusted her shoulders with a proud glance, "It's a gift."

I looked our new friend dead in the eye, _Really? You don't say?_

A great flurry of worries came upon me. Did she know what I was? Moreover, did she know what Belinda was, what danger she was in? Come to think of it, why wasn't she wasn't dead yet? Belinda hadn't killed her. Had she tried? Was she okay? I looked for signs of dust about me. Something distinctly odd was going on. I struggled a little then looked to the clock, just over one hour until Tom came back from lunch. He'd clear all this up. Unfortunately, a lot could happen in an hour. I could be dust. I could kill again. Had this woman been brought here for me? Had one of the Old Ones survived, and come to tempt me back? I'd certainly _enjoy_ killing this one if I had the opportunity, but I shouldn't. I wouldn't. That wasn't me, not anymore. I wouldn't let it. It couldn't be that, plus, I'd never heard of anyone who called themselves 'The Lady'.

"Dear me, love, I can see your mind racing from 'ere. Put it to rest 'fore you blow a gasket. Oh, but I s'pose this is all very confusing for you ain't it eh? My name's Connie Simm, Mrs, and from what I told you're called 'Arry, right?"

_HAL! It's just FUCKING HAL! Why is that so difficult for people to grasp?_

"Right, right, okay, calm down, _Lord_ 'Arry, sorry. I've 'eard all about you I 'ave, though. Ooo, the amount of spirits that have mentioned your name, it's like meeting Elvis. But of course, 'e's not passed on yet. Aye but when 'e does I'm the first in line. It'll be like that scene in 'Ghost', you've seen it." I shook my head, why do people these days insist on likening things to films I haven't watched! Mrs Simm shook, visibly, like a great mound of sweating jelly. It was enough to put one off eating humans for good. Not all bad then.

Someone was coming down the stairs! _Whoever it is you can deal with them, Hal_, I told myself.

**_Belinda!_**

She smiled, sparkling, "Hello gorgeous. We're up are we?"

_What the hell is going on?_

"Babes, calm down, I'm not going to stake you yet." She was keeping her distance from the human, putting the bar between herself and the medium. I could tell it was taking her a great deal of strength not to leap over the bar and kill the woman. Who could blame her? Nevertheless Belinda was above resorting to my alternative, babbling; she exuded calm.

"I can't find it Connie, are you sure it's here?"

_WHAT?_

"Oh yes, I'm getting vibrations."

_Fucking, what?_

"And you can't be more, I don't know, specific?"

_Jesus, am I invisible? WHAT!_

"Shush, Hal."

"Sorry m'Lady, it don't work like that."

Belinda was 'the Lady' then.

In the kitchen, something smashed, "Whoops-shit-sorry. Mug down!" shouted a voice, blustering though the curtain, "I'll clean it up later, sorry, Hal, it was the sheepy one from…whothfuckisshe?"

_Oh great, just what I need._ _Alex._

_Wait, Alex! Yes! Help! _I struggled, trying to get my point across, as she saw me she wandered into the living area with a look of incredible amusement.

"Well, Helloooo Gimpy Chops!" She landed in one of the bar stools with a smack and grabbed her stomach with hilarity.

There was pointing. Lots of pointing.

"Baaaabes!" Belinda said, reaching for Alex from behind the bar and wrapping her arms around her. She pulled Alex into a hug. "Where have you been? Never mind, this is Connie, she's an old friend. I invited her here to make it up to you, didn't mean to be mean earlier."

"S'ok, water off a duck's back. What's with Sticky McFang-Face?"

_Sticky McFang-Face!_

"Hal? Well he needed calming down. Human, you see." She pointed at Connie, "And well, Eep! After what happened last night, we thought it for the best to put those gnashers away, didn't we Hally-baby?"

_No. We. Did. Not! _

"Ohhh, I get it," nodded Alex in understanding.

_That was just a **temporary LAPSE**!_

"Woah, Jeeesus, calm down Hal!" Alex said. She seemed a little scared of my muted outburst and backed away, "Are you sure he's okay? I've never seen him this riled."

"Connie Simm," interrupted the medium. She held out her hand to Alex who, in turn, snapped around in horror and stared, blinking, at the fat woman.

_Alex! Don't fall for it! Alex, **help** **me**!_

"Shush, Hal, can't you see I'm trying to help your friend," Belinda chastised with a wink.

"You ... you can see me?" Alex said, taken aback with astonishment. Mrs Simm nodded as my friend settled into the realisation, "Oh my God that's like sooo brillian'. Hal she can totally see me!" she squeaked at a level which might only be registered by certain breeds of dog and, perhaps, Tom. Wide eyed, she pointed at the woman, as if directing my attention to a child defecating in its pot for the first time.

"Oh wow!" Alex sat down next to Mrs Simm and began babbling. She did a better job than me sometimes. "So these creepy guys they like totally stole my body. Can you help wi' that like? 'Cause like, apparently, I need te find it so I can pass over, or something. I'm no' sure. It was all a bit, I don't know, mental, bloody and fucking inconvenient to tell the truth."

"Of course love, I help the police find bodies all the time. My fee is…"

"Don't worry, Connie, I can cover it," Belinda said, "It's the least I can do."

"You would!" Alex seemed so grateful.

My rage had passed into incredulity. I couldn't believe this.

"No worries, babes, I mean it's not as if Hal's in a state to help is it?"

I genuinely could not fucking believe it. It was then I began to doubt myself, maybe my senses were wrong. Maybe Belinda was genuinely trying to help? Maybe I _should_ just trust her.

"Perhaps you two can iron out the details while I try and calm his Highness down?" Belinda joked, "Connie would you mind, it's for the best, we'll finish up with Phase 2 in a moment. Alex, a cup of tea would be totally smashing!"

There were Phases? Did I miss something?

"Sure thing, "babes"," said Alex pulling what I had learned to call her 'get-in-there' face.

I don't know whether I what I was more, disappointed in Alex or impressed with Belinda.

Alex took Mrs Simm into the kitchen, yabbering all the way about what happened to her. The last thing I heard was "drank-my-blood," before they were in the other room.

I was seething. Belinda said as she sat opposite me and put her palms up, confessionally. "Cards on the table time," she said.

I wasn't going to give her an inch. I was just going to smash this chair and stake the bitch.

"Thing is, you see, you've been a busy boy and you were never were just going to be just a trophy kill. I had this big old plan about how I was going to get what I wanted out of you. But I did all rather rest on me not dying, not becoming a vampire, and you not being such a cutie-pie." She pinched my cheek. Had I been able to I'd have had those pretty fingers clean off. "Then I was just going to ask nicely, but I forgot, what with all the rumpy-pumpy and all, that Connie was coming! Sorry."

_SORRY! You're Sorry! Let me go! I'll show you sorry. I'll fucking kill you…**properly**!_

"Are you going to calm down and let me explain? Or shall I tranq' you again? I've got shit loads left, and don't think I didn't spot that taser too, you naughty boy." She interlocked her fingers in mine. I could break them. I could twist them off. She probably knew what I was thinking, but I didn't follow through. I kept thinking of those fingers on my skin.

"There's an old ring," she explained, softly, "It probably doesn't mean anything to you. In fact, you've probably even forgot you have it. But it's really important, Hal. I need it and I need you to trust me when I say it's worth it. I need you to tell me where it is. Can you do that for me?"

What was this, Extreme Cash in the Attic? I don't _do_ memorabilia. Others do. Not me. Whatever I did own, I categorically was **not** going to give her any of it. I had already given her too much and look how she had treated _that_. I felt my heart die all over again every second I looked at her. How could I let myself think there was anything more to the way she looked at me than as some kind of prize. I shook my head.

_No._

"That's a shame. It really was going to be worth your while."

Connie Simm poked her head through from the kitchen window, "Any joy m'Lady?"

"Unfortunately, no. Straight to Phase 3 I think Mrs Simm."

"Oh I'm sorry to 'ear that, love. She's a nice one."

_Who? What's Phase 3?_

"Needs must, Mrs Simm."

"All right but there's some setting up to be done. In here?"

"If you would," the medium disappeared back into the kitchen, "I'm sorry, Hal, I need you to know that. But this is _really_ is important."

Alex and Mrs Simm came back with a tray of tea and I had a horrible feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with my hunger.


	16. Part 16 Mary Queen of Spooks

**16 – Mary Queen of Spooks**

"Where's your nearest socket love?" Mrs Simm asked Alex, who pointed to near the television as the woman cracked open her bag and pulled out a great mound of cable and a strange looking box about the size of a toaster.

Alex landed on the near sofa and slapped me on the knee. She bounced up and down on the blanket, "Connie's goin' te help me find my body like. She says we need a 'door' though, but I'm no' sure why. I dinnae have te go through, apparently. Oh, I don't know, this is your area o'expertise."

Mrs Simm pulled the strange looking equipment nearer as Alex moved to put her feet up on the coffee table. She paused for breath for only a moment, when she remembered how I hated that, and then she realised something wasn't right. "Hey, where'd the coffee table get te? Christ, this place is tidy. Wait, did he make you clean!" She stared at Belinda, who laughed with charm, then back at me. "Hal! I cannae believe it, after what you did, you made her clean up!"

I shook my head dramatically. I tried to warn her.

_No! No! **No, to all of it! Bad idea, Alex! Don't trust her.**_

You need a death to get a door before it's due. Was Belinda going to kill Connie? What did Alex have to do with anything?

I hoped that, finally, Alex was starting to realise that something wasn't right when she returned to Belinda with worry, "This is safe, righ'? I mean, I don't have te go if I don't wan'te? Only Hal…"

I nodded with hope, _Yes, Alex, something's not right…_

Belinda laughed off my friend's concerns, "I suppose, it's all very new territory for me too, babes."

Alex clapped her hands and rubbed them together. It only then occurred to me that she had possibly misjudging my signals as encouragement, "Shit, this is exciting. I only went out te'find out the footie score; two-nil by the way, get-in you Celts!" She air pumped.

_No, no, you can't do this Belinda, not before she's ready! _I raged, whatever she wanted I'd find it if it was here. She could have everything. I didn't care.

"What was that, hun? Sorry, I can't quite make it out," said Belinda.

_I'll find it. Let me loose! Let me go! Please!_

"Nope, still not getting it. Maybe Tom can help translate later when he get's back, hey Alex?"

Was that a threat? She couldn't do anything to Tom, could she? No, he had her stake. He'd get her first. He was good, it was his thing. But it was hers too, and he liked her didn't he? That was all it took, that was her in, all that charm. Give and inch and she'd take a mile. She'd have him eating out of her hands in no time, like she had with me. Had it all been a trick, an act? Did she mean anything she had said, had she wanted me at all? Stupid, Hal, stupid! The oldest trick in the book and you fell for it hook, line and…

"All ready," Mrs Simm said, putting her strange looking box on the floor in front of Alex. Up close it looked like some kind of inside-out radio.

"Oooooooo-kay, what the fuck's that then?"

"It's something I invented, love, you like it?"

Alex laughed, "Not sure. What is it?"

"Did you ever watch 'Ghostbusters'?"

"Erm, yeah. Four brothers! Standard baby-sitting material. I love the bit at the end when they're all like, 'Don't cross the streams!' Aaaaargh." She demonstrated at me with a grin. It wasn't a something I had seen. I shrugged at her blankly, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Twelve-one," she tallied in the air, "You're such a square, Hal. Who's no' seen 'Ghostbusters', honestly? I despair. It's goin' on the the list for next DVD night, no arguments."

This was no time for the 'Popculture Hal doesn't get' game, which I didn't like at the best of times.

"Lovely dear, well, yes, it's sort of like that," Mrs Simm flipped a switch. The ceiling lights flickered dramatically. The pots and pans in the kitchen clanked together. We lost another mug or two. The pictures on the walls fell from their hooks.

"What, it's like the those little trappy…whotsit…thingys?" Alex joked, and then her face fell, "What wait the fuck is going on here, Hal?" she snapped at me, as if this was somehow my fault. It was all I could do not to rip my arms from my sockets to stop it. It did no good.

She started to drift almost immediately. She stared at her fingertips, as they turned to smoke. Her gaze fell to Belinda with desperation, "Belinda?"

"Trust me. You'll be fine, babes," said Belinda, "It's for the best."

There was barely anything to Alex now.

"Oh I don' know? Somehow, Belinda…" Her tone was less playful now, her words had sharpened, they were lemon crisp. I could feel that rage in her beginning to boil, "…I'm failing te fucking grasp how _this_, in any way, could be for the fu…"

_No! NO! STOP IT! STOP IT! **STOP IT!**_

But she was gone.

For once that delicious vexation failed to reach its climax.

God, I felt it, that loss. That painful silence, which her wrath should have filled, was vast. It was like someone had kicked me in the stomach. It was more cutting than when Leo passed over, or Pearl. Because at least I knew then that they were going somewhere better, together. I didn't want this for Alex. After everything that had happened, she didn't deserve _this_!

This hadn't happened. I realised I was crying. That hadn't happened since Kirby. Cold tears rolled down my chin. Alex would have ribbed me for it something rotten, if she was here, but she wasn't, was she? Not anymore.

A reverent silence fell for but a moment before I felt I had to fill it, for her sake.

_No! NO! Let me go you bitch! You fucking heartless cow!_

This was cruel. I knew cruelty when I saw it and this was crueller than anything I had ever done. So I had killed Belinda, I had ripped her humanity from her without care for the consequences. I could explain that away. It was simply a monster, surviving. But, this? This was a piece of work. It seemed most of this had been planned since before Belinda had even arrived. I knew this kind of work. I had written the book on this kind of work. This was calculation. This was strategic. This was revenge.

I wondered, as the realisation dawned, as I calmed, which of my crimes had touched her?

When my tears had finally dried Belinda came close, softly she pulled the tape away.

"Why?" I asked, unstuffed, but barely able to form the words. It was the only question I need ask.

"Oh, babes, there are so many reasons." She rested her hand on my cheek. I pulled away, "Still trust me?"

"Never again."

"No, but you still kinda love me, right? That's close enough."

I shook my head, but even then I knew it was a lie. What the hell had this creature done to me? How could she have twisted my feelings so well? Somewhere, deep within, a little voice told me that even if Alex didn't deserve it, that I did. Belinda must have a good reason. I just wondered which it was.

"She's not gone, Hal, it's okay." She gave me hope. Hope was cruel. There it was, flickering in the dark like a fishing-fly. Hanging from the end of a line, woven from Belinda's many charms, reeling me back in. "You can have her back, babes, but I _need_ that ring."

"What. Fucking. Ring?" I spat with aching calculation.

She smiled, that spark hadn't gone. How I wish it had. She recited a passage I remembered too well, "_The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"_

I stared at her in horror, "Highcastle? How do you know about…" And after hope comes clarity, delightful epiphany. "They were your family weren't they?" And after epiphany, bargaining. "That's not me, not anymore. I was war crazed…" Textbook cruelty.

"Bingo! We have a winner. Let's get this boy a prize." She clapped her hands together in mock applause.

"I don't…I don't have it. I gave it to Fergus, and he's dead."

Belinda's eyes blackened, her teeth bared. I expected her to come for me but in an instant she pounced on Mrs Simm. All I could think of was how beautiful she still was in her anger.

"No!" I screamed, "Don't!" If she followed through I might not only loose Alex, but also what hint of goodness might still be in Belinda. While that was still there, perhaps that hope was real.

"I thought you said it was here?" Belinda threatened the medium, her teeth barely holding back from the fleshy folds of Mrs Simm's neck. "Don't tell me I've gone through all this on some stupid whim of yours you old hag?"

"It is here! Christ, I swear. Bloody 'ell, Belinda!" The fat old woman was terrified.

"Hal?" she flipped back to me, "Any hints, lover?"

I remembered, "The Hoover! He's in there." With any luck Annie hadn't emptied the bag before she passed over, despite my insistence, "Check the vacuum!"

Please let it be there, please, if there is any kind of salvation I can't articulate how I prayed that it was to be found in the leftovers of my friend's bones!

Belinda dropped Mrs Simm like a bag of potatoes, grabbed the old machine from the cupboard, and rolled it back while Mrs Simm was eyeing the front door with caution. If I was any judge in character she would run the minute she had the chance. She wouldn't get far. When I was a betting man I wouldn't have taken the odds.

"Connie!" Belinda's temper was getting shorter and shorter, "Make yourself useful and look! And don't make a mess. Old Harry gets angsty if you get crumbs on the table. Imagine what he's like with Hoover fluff on a clean carpet!" She grabbed the box, which I presumed would later be responsible for returning Alex to somewhat corporeal form, slammed it in that infernal bag of hers and whipped out a pair of handcuffs.

She jangled them in the air like a mischievous Madam, "Thanks to your friends I didn't need these did I?" she joked and threw them at Mrs Simm. "Sorry Connie. Clamp those on the fireplace please, the other one to your ankle."

"Do I have to?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you looking at the door? This plan won't work without you. Count yourself lucky that you're important. You'll be fine."

I didn't believe her, I don't think Mrs Simm did either, "Belinda, please, I'm begging you, let her leave. It's not good for either of us to have a human here."

"Speak for yourself, sweetie, I'm coping just fine." I somehow doubted that. She continued, "Plus, if she goes anywhere and it's bye-bye Mary Queen of Spooks. So we really don't want anything bad happening do we?"

She grabbed one of the mugs of tea that Alex had brought in and sipped it with determination. Her hands were shaking again and this time she was making no attempt to hide it. "Not as good as mine." She attempted to joke, "Three dunks. Schoolgirl error." I could hear the crack in her voice. She was hanging on by her perfect fingernails, a feeling I knew only too well. I would give her no more than ten minutes before she buckled. I looked at the clock, one hour till Tom got home. It was going to be a long one.


	17. Part 17 A woman's prerogative

**17 – A woman's prerogative **

"Haven't you fucking found it yet?" I snapped at Mrs Simm. I swam my finger around the bottom of the tea-cup with a squeak. It was all I could do to stifle the sound of her pounding heart in my ears. My palms were sweating. I wiped them on my jeans as I stared at the box in my bag. I wondered if Hal would ever forgive me if I took away his chance to get his friend back. Would it matter? He was going to be dust soon? One nip, just a little. I didn't have to kill her did I?

I tried not to look at Hal. His eyes burned through me. God the guilt! I just wanted to pull him into my arms, run away into the night and save him from the fate I had laid out. But I know what would become of us both if I did that. I could smell the carnage. I hungered for it now. The truth was neither of us were good people. Together our hunger wouldn't cancel out, it would multiply. This _had_ to be done. Holding the affection that I had for Hal inside me was harder than stifling the need to rip Mrs Simm's throat out.

"Got something!" Mrs Simm spluttered in the dust and pulled something out of the bag. Hal leant forward in his chair to look. I pulled myself forward in mine. There it was: a small, round band of silver, held in the air like some kind of trophy. I passed over the left-overs of my tea for her to wash it clean. She dropped it within. After a wash I wiped it on my jeans.

"Yes!" There was the inscription, the family crest. This was it. I couldn't believe it. I think, by now, I didn't want to believe it. Part of me wanted my plan to fail, then I had an excuse to kill Mrs Simm, but no such luck. I ran towards Hal, hungry to kiss him in thanks for keeping it all these years, even if that _was_ because giving it to his friend. It was a feeble excuse, so I held myself back. I think he sensed that. At least, I hope he sensed that. "Look! It's here, Hal, it's really here." I bounced with glee.

"Belinda, please, enough of this. You have your damned ring. Have your friend release Alex and then let them both leave. Stake me, don't stake me, I don't care; but Alex and this lady need to go _now_." Those eyes, Christ, those eyes. He was reaching out to try and take my hand. "You're barely holding it together. I can see that. Mrs Simm can see that. She's terrified Belinda. But we can still get through this. I promise you. You and Me. Please!"

I turned away. "Sorry, No. We're not done yet,"

"It's a fucking ring! Why in God's name is it so important?" Hal snarled, shaking on the chair, shedding his calm a moment.

I was a little disappointed he hadn't guessed. "I need it to close a door," I explained. Handing it to Mrs Simm, "and she needs it to open one."

"You mean to the other side? That's simply impossible." He shook his head, behind each word hid a barely contained anger and exasperation. "You cannot open a door without a death," Hal spouted with arrogance.

"Oh and you're the expert in such matters are you, y'Lordship?" contradicted Mrs Simm, "Not that there's not a medium in the room or nothin'. Bloody Southerners, think they know everything."

"Madam, I have lived for over five hundred years. I have traveled the length and breadth of this country, this world, and I have _never_ yet seen it done any other way."

"Aye, and I bet in all that time you mostly toasted your nuts over a flint fire, but they still invented gas ovens, love. There's always a better way to do somethin' if you put your mind to it. How's she cooking m'Lady?"

"Look, obviously I wasn't _planning_ on killing anyone," I attempted to reassured Hal, as i returned to my bag. I probably didn't sound that sure anymore, "I sent Connie on a day trip here last week. She did a reccy, so I knew the ring was here, you, your friends. I was an amazing girl guide, babes. Be Prepared. That's what they say." I put my hand up in a small salute to Hal, trying to lighten the mood with humour. It didn't work. I shrugged and checked the box in my bag as requested, "Should it have a green light or blue?"

"Blue."

"Yup. She's good." I whipped the box out again and threw it to the tame medium.

"Careful!" Hal yelped, but Mrs Simm was a good catch.

"Sorry, I'm just all excited to see if this is going to work." The hunger rumbled. "It had better fucking work," I threatened Mrs Simm.

She nodded with understanding and opened one side of the box, hooking up the ring to two little alligator clips. The box sparked, "Bugger me, we caught a fire cracker with this one, love. This might just work?"

Hal snapped his attention back to me, "I'm sorry, are you telling me this is the first time you've attempted to use this technology?" he was incredulous with anger. "Enough! **Enough! Let her out this instant you fucking she-devil!**"

"Rude! Be quiet, Hal, or am I going to have to gaffer you again?" I hissed. "Seriously, do you want me to kill her? I'm, like, this close, babes," I begged him, "You're not helping."

"Kill who?" Mrs Simm said absently flipping switches. "She's already dead, m'Lady."

I shrugged, "Of course, Connie, carry on. You're doing grand."

"You're going to destroy whatever is left of my friend!" Hal pleaded.

"Trust me! It will be worth it!"

"Why! Why are you so desperate for me to trust you! How can I?" He had tears in his eyes again, "What on earth could possibly be worth it! If this is about me then you've won, hands down. But Alex is an innocent in all this. You don't need her."

"No, but _you_ do. Would you rather I kill Connie? I'll do it you know, I'm so…"

"What? Me!" Mrs Simm looked up in horror.

I looked at her, and from the way she recoiled I knew she saw what had changed in me. She knew what I was now. So what! I didn't need her. She was there, at the beginning of it all. If it hadn't been for her Mummy would be fine. She was as much to blame. It would be just, wouldn't it? My whole body felt as if it was shaking. Just one bite, just one little nip, that's all I needed.

"Belinda?" Hal's voice brought me back from the brink with soft, cajoling, tone, "Don't. Alex wouldn't want that either. Please, come back, Belinda, focus on me."

I broke down. It was too much, "I can't do it. You're right. It's too hard, Hal, I'm not strong enough."

Suddenly the room was bathed in a warm light. It was as if the sun had come up on that beach mural.

"If you two 're quite finished discussing whether to kill me, you might want to know it worked," interjected Mrs Simm from the floor. "No need to thank me."

My hunger didn't pass, but it felt held, as if it had been dunked under a warm bath of water and was waiting to come up for air. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked behind me in, not knowing what to expect. Hal, looked up from me too, his face painted with beautiful terror.

I recognised the woman with her hand on my shoulder instantly, from one of the paintings in Highcastle. It was Sarah. Beyond her there was an elegant open door from which the light emanated.

"Well done, my dear," Sarah, my Great-great Grandmother said to me. " _'Lord'_ Harry I presume?" She held out her hand, took Hal's and shook it. "Lady Highcastle, I believe we've met."

Hal shook his head in horror, "I'm sorry, I don't…I don't remember you." This seemed astonishing to him.

"No, well you wouldn't, but that was my ring you so callously discarded. You people have no respect for property."

"I gave it to Fergus. Wait, you were the girl, the daughter in the cellar? Fergus said he killed you. That lying toe-rag. I lost five pounds."

"Perspective, Hal," I nudged.

"Sorry, yes. Hello." He turned to me, "Wait, you're related?"

I nodded, "Surprise."

"I don't know, Belinda, they say old meals come back to haunt you. This somewhat takes the biscuit."

"If we could focus please, we're not here to make idle chit-chat. Belinda, I take it you have the necessary equipment to dispatch this demon?" I nodded and ran behind the bar, from behind which I took a stake.

"Oh, wait, I see where this is going." Hal sighed, "Yours?"

"No, your friend's. I found it earlier. I did say," I tried to explain, "You were always going to get staked, Hal."

"I'll be the judge of that," Great-great Granny said. She took hold of the stake and held it in her hand to get the weight. "Is there a knack to it, my dear?" she asked thrusting blindly at the air like an old woman with a Wii controller.

"It's all about aim," I said and cautiously reached towards Hal. I unbuttoned his shirt a way (probably further than was necessary, but Granny didn't blush) and pointed to where she should present the weapon. God, the desire to take him away from this fate I had prepared was desperate. The way he looked at me was almost serene. Did he finally get it, with all that stuff I said about making amends I hope he did. He smiled.

"It's alright, Belinda," He said, "I understand now."

I took his hand, held it tightly, "I'm here." I said, "I've got you."

He held my hand as if we were both about to jump from a great height and looked at Mrs Simm, "Just promise me Alex will be alright?"

Connie checked on the box, tapping on the top, "So far, so good, I think. But we can't overload her."

Then he looked back at me, "Don't eat her!" he made me promise, "Don't eat anyone."

I nodded. "I won't, just, don't let go," I insisted, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Madam," Hal said to Granny, finally and with reverence, as she pressed the stake to his chest, "You have my sincere apologies, what I did was...what I am is…well, that is to say, I'm sorry. If cannot have your forgiveness, then you may have whatever else pleases you." He prepared himself for death. He was so brave. I wanted to just eat him up there and then.

For a moment we both waited, preparing for the worst. I think that Granny surprised us both.

"Very well, Mr Yorke, you can have my forgiveness. It wasn't a bad life, and had I not gone through what I did, well then we'd not have the lovely Belinda here, and I dare say, I'm rather proud of her right now. Just don't marry him, my dear, _that_ I shan't forgive."

She retracted the stake and came to me, kissing me on the cheek.

I fell to my knees, letting go of Hal in the process. "Is that it?" I asked her, "Will Mummy be okay, now?" I could feel the relief in my gut. It was the most powerful thing I had ever felt. More than love. More than hunger. More than lust, or power or hate. It was a great big ball of hope, "Please, please tell me she'll be okay."

_That_ was what had kept me human for so long, I knew it now. Perhaps Hal knew it too, perhaps that was the 'humanity' he had claimed to see in my face. Hope. I think we also both knew what would become of me when that hope was set free.

"Not quite my dear, I said _I_ forgive him. And as much glorious perspective and forgiveness as one gets on the other side, he didn't kill _me. _I can't say I'm certain that everyone else feels the same."

That was when they started to come through.

All those ghosts! There were thousands of them! Clamouring at the door, bursting through just like they had been pouring themselves into my mother's mind, looking for a way to get what they wanted. Now, finally, my Granny had found a way for them to get it.

But this wasn't what _I _wanted. Not at all.

I wanted him to live.

A girl can change her mind, can't she?


	18. Part 18 Making Amends

**18 – Making Amends  
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_Step 8 – We made a list of all persons we had harmed,_

_and became willing to make amends to them all._

No one was more surprised than I when the old ghost retracted the stake.

I had been prepared for death. With the promise that Alex would be safe, and with the realisation that Belinda's intentions were somewhat noble, I felt something almost like peace.

In that moment I could imagine Belinda slipping comfortably into my place in the house, with Tom, Alex, helping _her_ stay clean. That would work. It would be easier for her than it had ever been for me. She would be good for Tom and he would be good for her. She had managed this far. She could be the first of us never satiate that part of herself! The thought that my terrible and long life would end, at that moment, seemed entirely natural. I was ready for the struggle to be over. I was ready to break the cycle. This seemed like the only way.

Truthfully, I was most offended when it didn't happen.

That confidence changed the minute I saw who stood behind the old woman. Offense turned to horror. The stake was handed down, to a boy. He was no more than eleven. He was hardly clothed. He had been the first, my first taste. He was shaking, terrified. I remembered him of course.

I couldn't do this. I wasn't ready for this. Not him.

He didn't speak English, but even being a linguistics expert wouldn't have helped as he barely made himself heard. This was the boy I found in a farmhouse when I ran, awake into my new life. He clothed me, gave me food and I killed him, and his family, in thanks. It was a mess. I had lasted one hour, until Belinda I think that was the record. After that I don't think I stopped for three villages, I felt like I was flying.

Now it felt like my body had become a dead weight. I could barely move from the shock seeing his face. Of course I see their faces in my dreams, when I sleep, when I wake, between sleeping and waking, but it is so very different to be confronted with them. Eye to eye. I am sure many vampires, who have attempted abstinence, will speak of how the memories of their meals still haunt them. What I am sure no vampire attempting starvation will admit, however, is it's not always a feeling of guilt that such visions induce in the minds eye. There is a whole gamut of emotions. Guilt, yes, but also pride, lust, horror, omnipotence, weakness, reverence, so much more than your basic revulsion, and rarely that. Such memories corrupt and tease the mind until eventually, after the third or fourth attempt to 'Do a Fossy' (as Cutler so bewilderingly put it), you learn to shut them away, dim them, like turning down a lamp. You concentrate on something else; for me, a clean table, a steady domino, a box of matches. Small battles won.

To be faced with that boy, I never did ask his name, was like the brightness had suddenly been turned up on everything that I was, and did, and am. It burned.

I looked at the heavy stake, shaking in his hands. It seemed unwieldy for him but I begged him to do it all the same. "I'm sorry," I said over and over again, "You didn't deserve…stake me, доля меня, please, for God's sake, Belinda, help him…"

"меня зовут Lev," the boy muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

"He said, my name is Lev," Mrs Simm interjected.

"Yes, I … I understood that, I just don't understand why he's telling me."

"плохой человек. Просто голодные. Это нормально. Вы простите." Lev said, slowly.

"Not bad man. Just hungry. It's okay," Mrs Simm explained. "he said he forgives you too."

"Yes! I know! I speak Russian. But I am, Lev, I am a _bad_ man. Сделайте это, пожалуйста, Лев!" (Do it, Lev, Please!)

He shook his head, at which Belinda smiled and took the boy into an embrace, "How do I say 'thank you'?"

Mrs Simm shrugged, clearly she understood the boy by some gift of mediumship.

"It's pronounced, 'Spasiba'," I told Belinda, weakly.

She said thank you to the boy, and tried to take the stake from him, but he had already handed it to someone behind him and walked to the old ghost. He wrapped his arms around her and she comforted him. "Well done, young man, very admirable," said the one that got away. Seemingly the boy understood.

The stake was taken up by a woman whom I recognised instantly. The beautiful Catherine. I took her because she was so pure. It was something that fascinated me. I wanted to understand it, to spoil it. That was a curious year.

"Oh I've been waiting for this for ages Harry," she waved girlishly and wrapped her arms around me. She was still dressed as I had last had her, by which I mean barely. Though she seemed curiously aware of her almost nakedness. There was still a little of that innocence left then.

Belinda held my hand a little tighter, as if to stake some kind of claim, before Eleanor teased with the stake. She drew a big cross over my heart, "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours Mr Yorke," she trilled. I thought Belinda might tare her hair from her in clumps.

I remembered how I held her heart before it had finished beating, fascinated by it like it, like was a kitten I had found in the snow, "Catherine…I'm so…"

"Sorry?"

I nodded, the word didn't seem big enough for what I wanted to express. This was getting harder. I struggled, but not for escape, only because I wanted to scream something for which a word had not yet been invented, and had I even known it, there was not enough volume left in my pitiful lungs.

"Yes, I'm sorry. There aren't words...please, Catherine, end this. Belinda, tell her? Please?"

An audience of faces stared back at me now. They were no longer queuing in an orderly fashion. They were in the kitchen, waiting their turn, inspecting the dishes, the running water in the taps with fascination. Still they came, crowding, as if they had paid to watch a great show: the starved, the fat, the tall, the short, every colour, every creed, every shape, the smart, the poor, the lost, the found, the dying, lame, lavish and lascivious; all with one thing in common. Me. In my younger, more urbane, days I would have admired how politically correct my killing had been, but looking at them now I saw only gluttony.

Catherine threw the stake behind her, for another to catch, "No, I dare say you're still too pretty for me to hate you. Forgiven maybe, but never forgotten, Harry. I just wanted one last look. You can have my heart any time, Valentine," she said, a throw away comment, and kissed me as she swirled away. Belinda's grasp relaxed a little in mine. Another survived, but I didn't dare relax.

The din was deafening, they were all clamouring for their moment, begging each other to 'let them do it'. Some were scrabbling by the bar. Some were laughing and swapping stories on the sofas. Children had chased each other up stairs, acting out their last moments. It was chaos. It was exhausting.

Behind Catherine was another, and after another and another. It was relentless, then again I had been, as Belinda put it, 'a busy boy'.

Some came close to killing me, like the girl from that trip to Africa with Snow and the others. She thought I was the devil, still did, and was committed in exorcising me, but a number held her back apparently afraid of what might be 'freed'. Some sat at my feet and prayed for me. Some simply wanted to know why. Some wanted to tell me their name, who they had been in life. Most, it seemed, wanted nothing simpler than an apology. The triplets, they were there, insisted on telling me what happened in Tristan & Isolde, despite the fact I knew the story well. They told me they apparently all enjoyed the performance very much, in full, once they were all dead. The mute one could even now sing me parts now. I begged her not to.

Belinda held my hand throughout. She went through every ordeal. I was tired, she was tired, but they would never tire. I kept looking at the clock, expecting Tom to arrive any minute, eagerly awaiting his shock, but the hand upon the clock never moved. I began to realise that, whatever was happening here, it wasn't following normal rules.

Sometimes I felt I would be passing through this gauntlet forever, but more often I was grateful for each second I was spared. It was both heaven and hell, and endless passage of apology, forgiveness, and preparation for death. But though each victim was harder and harder to face, with each something strange happened, I began to feel something akin to thanks.

It was not for my life that I had growing feeling of gratefulness, which was being meted out before me, in all its horror and glory, but for whatever twist of fate had brought the opportunity to my door to atone for it. Belinda was right, with every moment saved I began to realise, this _was _important, this _was_ worth it. Not just for me, but for every soul bursting at the seams of Honolulu Heights.

In the endless passage from face to face, memory to memory, from saved moment to saved moment, there were three things which snapped me from the exhaustion which began to prick at my eyelids, and wake the numbed muscles of my body.

First: the vibrations.

I will give this to Mrs Simm: in the end she wasn't wrong. Honolulu Heights had vibrations. We had them by the cart load. They weren't Beach Boys Good vibrations though. These were the bad kind, which make you feel a nauseous. I soon began to feel them, gentle at first, like a hum though the souls of my feet. Then sometimes it was like a great train passed underneath us. Once or twice it was as if the whole house jumped. Some of our guests replaced the pictures when that happened, stood the upended chairs back upon their legs, dusted down those of them who were knocked from their feet. Others applauded as if they were on a fairground ride. Some screamed.

I'm not sure when I got the feeling that something had gone very wrong. I think it was about the time that Belinda left my side to find Mrs Simm amongst the crowd. I felt terribly alone when she was gone, truly vulnerable. I didn't want to do this alone.

Second: there was Rachel.

She was passed Tom's stake by one of the Highcastle girls, who had told me her name was Sophia. She had thanked me for sparing her children and said it was not her place to forgive, no matter how sorry I was. She was not the kind to take a life, even mine. When she was handed the stake Rachel said nothing. She held it to her breast like it was a child in need of comfort and just stared at me.

"Mr Yorke," she smiled, even more angelic than she had been in life. She was, of all those in the crowd, one of the most recent. I don't know whether that made it worse. It certainly made it brighter.

"Mrs Cutler."

"Well, here you are," she said, but wouldn't come close. I wasn't surprised. She twisted the wooden stake around in her hands. It squeaked. For a while it seemed the din from the crowd had been muted, there was just her, alone, and I.

"Here I am."

"Everything is so different." She took in the surroundings, "Then, I _am_ dead, and you are, what would be the best word for it..."

"Sorry," I prompted, but the word now sounded dead on my tongue. After seeming hours, of repeating it like it was some kind of mantra, I could understand how it might no longer hold weight.

She shook her head, "I was going to say, 'pathetic'."

"What?"

"Look at you. Mr Henry Yorke," Her voice was soft, "apologising to these people like it means something, like it makes a difference to anything. It doesn't. Not to us. Not to you. Not in the end. Our afterlives will go on, yours won't. Monsters, like you, will be made, and they will pass. And after you there will be another, bigger, scarier, crazier. They will kill, and be killed. You think that you're special. You have always thought that, I knew that the moment I met you. But you aren't Mr Yorke. You are, in a word, pathetic. And I pity you."

"Rachel, I…"

"You don't get to say my name, Mr Yorke. I'm not here for my sake, not for some kind of self righteous forgiveness, to gawp, or make you squirm, or make my life count for something it never would have while I was breathing. I'm here for … I'm here for my Nick."

"N…Nick?"

"Have you forgotten him already?"

"Of, of course not, he was a friend, once. It's just…"

"Then you know he was a good man, Mr Yorke. Not a great man. Not a brilliant man. Not a special man. But he was _my_ man. I loved him for all his failures, all his hopes, his plans, and all his silly dreams. That's the difference between me and all the rest you see here, Mr Yorke. You took my life, yes, but you took something so much more important than that before my heart stopped. Because of _you_ I have to face eternity without him. I have to know everything he did and love him for it still, because he was my Nick, and it was all I could have. Even if he was a twisted thing, it was better than nothing, even though he never amounted to much. But he _was_ brave, in the end, my Nick. Not like you, hiding away like a coward.

That's why I'm the one that's going to do it, Mr Yorke, because I can't bare to see a lame animal suffer. To think I lost my Nick, forever, for the sake of something as pathetic as _you_. You have my pity. You deserve nothing more than that."

Before I could protest further she raised the stake and she drove it down.

She was deadly accurate.

I felt it pierce the skin, break a rib, possibly two, my sternum certainly...

Third: Everything went dark.


	19. Part 19 The third thing

**19 – The third thing**

Hal's focus was upon the crowd. It was hard to leave his side but I had to find a way to end it. He was baring it bravely, I couldn't. Patience, I've said it before, is not one of my virtues.

Of course I knew that, any moment, one of them would be brave enough to do the deed. While that, in itself, terrified me it wasn't what drove me away. If anything it was what had kept me at his side for so long. I wanted to be there to fight them off, hold them back, help him survive, but as soon as I first felt the house shake I had I decided it had to end.

I had to find Mrs Simm.

"Connie!" I called through the crowd, pushing through a gaggle of half naked girls who were comparing stories, "Connie! Turn it off! We're done."

"Excuse me?" Some big bloke in a pinstripe suit held me back, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Step aside, babes."

"I think you'll find, maam, that while we're all very grateful for this opportunity, that it ain't done till it's done. There's an order to things." He shoved me back. I fell amongst the girls, who parted in an offended swathe.

I stood, dusted myself off and faced the bouncer. It had been a long time since I had to blag my way past any one like this. Normally they either knew who I was, took one look at me and any cohorts I had in tow and opened the door, or, if that didn't work, money generally helped loosen any sticky hinges. Tragically I didn't have time for negotiating my usual tactics, so I just tried pushing.

I got pushed back

"Do you think I'm scared of you, Casper? You got killed by a wickle vampire. I think I can take you." I prepared my self for a fight.

"I was caught by surprise," said Pinstripe with offense, dusting his suit and adjusting his collar, "little bleeder caught me from behind, anyway, that ain't the point it's the principle of the thing."

"Principle?" I said in astonishment as the house shook again. The felt like it jumped a foot. My stomach backflipped in surprise. It felt like the world had just travelled over a humped-back bridge at seventy. I had to grab hold of a nearby spectre for purchase, another nubile young woman, this time a can-can dancer it seemed. She swore at me in French, I returned the favour by thumping her in the nose. As she recoiled I tried to look for Mrs Simm, "Can't you see what we're doing here is causing some kind of damage. She said not to overload it! What you're all doing here is just that, now _let me through_."

"Fiver," He said.

"I'm sorry. You want money?"

"That little squirt cheated me out of five quid and then had me killed when I called him on it. Like I said, it's about principle."

"You're dead. What are the fuck are you planning to do with five quid?"

"It's not the money it's the…"

"Principle. I get it, fine." I dug my bag out from under the sofa, found my wallet and threw it at him, "take what you want."

I pushed past him with exasperation, caught another four eager elbows in the ribs and stood on a few toes. It was like trying to get to the bar at rush hour on a friday. I had left Connie by the corner sofa, she was locked down so couldn't have gone far. I pushed the crowd away from her in a swathe and found her where I had left her.

Connie seemed unconscious. The ghosts crowded in again and pushing them aside to give her air. I shook her. She had wrapped herself, foetally, around the box like it was a child she was afraid might be crushed in the stampede.

"Connie, Connie. How do we switch it off?" I slapped Mrs Simm about the face, no joy. She was out like a light. I wasn't surprised. She said that the machine she had invented 'channeled' her 'energies', whatever that meant. I assume the effort to keep the door open with all those spirits coming through had taken it out of her. With a great deal of difficulty I tried to prise the box from her grasp.

The voices babbled about me. I felt the crowd lay their hands on me pulling me away.

"She want's to send us back?" / "Well, I ain't goin' back till I thump that rotter on the nose." / "Räägi ise, ma lähen kaalul tema pallid!" / "Oooh. Can I watch?" / "Cette salope cassé le nez!"

"Get off!" I screamed, "Get off!" But as soon as I had managed to throw them off another crowd of hands would grasp upon me, pulling me further away, "Can't you see we have to stop this! Now!"

There was a horrible tearing sound. Everyone checked the floor at their feet, to ensure they weren't going to slip through the floorboards. It certainly did sound as if the earth had just cracked beneath us. I took advantage of it this time diving back to Mrs Simm and grasping hold of her. I picked up her heavy weight in my arms and pulled aside her hair to betray that neck towards my teeth.

"Seriously, come one step closer and I'll kill her. Then what'll happen, hm?" I threatened the crowd. They stepped back a notable distance. Okay, so I was on to something, I couldn't assume that it would be safe to kill Connie though, just to end it. What did I want to happen next? I wanted…I wanted Hal to be safe, but more than that, I wanted him to trust me again. Properly, which meant I needed to get Alex back, which meant I needed Mrs Simm, which meant I couldn't kill her. The only ball in my court was that the ghosts didn't know this. I had my bargaining chip. I just needed to wake Connie up. I gave her a good shake and a slap around the face.

"Connie, Connie, wake up you stupid old bat!"

"Excuse me?" came a voice from the crowd, which began to sway and shift with movement, "I said, excuse me."

The crowd parted. Horror dawned on me as I saw who came through. She sat on the sofa beside me. "Budge up, love," she said to one of the children who had found a place there.

"C…Connie?"

"Yes, m'Lady, sorry but I don't think you can much kill me. I've been a gonner for at least an hour I think."

"But you can't be…how?"

"I told you we shouldn't overload it darling, my poor old brain couldn't take it. It was a bit of a shock I'll tell you. But not to worry. Death never scared me my dear."

"You've not passed over?"

"Can't, tried. I've a sneaking suspicion that while that door is open that no one can, I 'ave to say it wasn't an eventuality I had considered, but it makes a lot of sense come t'think about it."

"Connie, focus, what about the box? You need to turn it off. We need to bring her Alex back. Close the door. Send them back!"

Mrs Simm shook her big head, "I can't do that m'Lady."

"But, the house is shaking. It's not right."

"Yes, well, that'll sort itself out I'm sure."

"Sort itself out! How?"

"I don't know dear, something's got t'give eventually."

Christ she was exasperating. I should have killed her myself. It would have been a mercy. I dropped her corpse like last night's soiled pizza. "Fine," I wrenched the box from her rigid grasp and lifted it onto my lap. It was smoking, and smelled faintly of burned hair. I pulled at one of the wires cautiously.

A few light bulbs blew.

"Ooo, I wouldn't do that m'Lady," said Connie sucking on her teeth.

I hovered my finger over a button. Connie shook her head.

I tried to take the ring from the clips but was given a severe electric shock for the thanks of it. I snapped back my arm and shook the sting away with a few swear words. This was pointless. Then again, if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.

I heard a horrible sound, which I knew well, the sound of a stake breaking through a rib cage.

"Fuck it! Sorry, Alex." I said and with holy exasperation, and hardly caring for the consequences, I grabbed the wire out of the wall. The plug flew from the socket.

At first all the lights on the box died. So did the lights in the house. It even seemed to go dark outside even though, by the clock, it wasn't yet midday.

Everyone went quiet. A thousand ghostly blue souls turned to look at me.

"I don't think you should have done that m'Lady," Connie said.

The house seemed to jump. I held onto the floor.

Then there was a beep.

I looked at the box.

A little blue light flashed in the silence.

"H...How?" I said holding out the box before me like it was some sort of explosive device.

Then, almost immediately, the door to the Other Side began to rattle in its hinges. There were screams. A stampede. Suddenly the crowd realised that whatever had been maintaining the link was closing, rapidly. There was a great wind then. It didn't seem to affect me, or the body at my feet, but everyone else seemed to want to hold on for dear life. To chairs, sofas, the fake bamboo of the bar. But it wasn't good enough. Soon every spectre, whether they liked it or not, was being dragged back through that door as if someone had up ended the house and was shaking the contents out of it.

The Pinstriped bloke, the can-can dancers, the nubile young things, children, some woman who was talking to Hal, Granny, and Connie too, were dragged down the stairs, out of the kitchen, from under the sofa. Hundreds and thousands from god knows where.

Someone slammed the door closed.

"Thank Fuck fe' tha'" said Alex as the lights flickered back on, as daylight streamed through the blinds, as the clock began to pass the time. She dusted her palms together. "I mean, claustrophobic much?"


	20. Part 20 How to save a life

**20 – How to save a life**

After the door was gone both Alex and I realised, at the same time, that Hal was in serious trouble.

"Shit, shit, shit! Hal, Babes!" I screamed, bounding over the sofa to his side. I stared open mouthed at the stake sticking out of his breast bone. Whoever had finally braved the kill had clearly been sucked into oblivion before finishing the job, but he wasn't responding. At least he wasn't dust! There was hope. I liked hope. I could work with hope. It was, like, my thing.

My brain started to plan. First, I needed to get him out of the chair; second, get him blood; no, Second, get us _both_ blood, fresh and sticky and warm... That was all that was on my mind. That would sort us out. Fuck humanity, this bitch needed to get her man a drink!

"Oh God, shit, sorry," I said, undoing the straps in order to pull him into my arms.

"Hands off, Bitch!" Alex spat, pushing me away and shifting her shoulders for a fight, "I might be a girl bu' I'm no above headbutting you ye' know!" I had a feeling she'd give it a go too. Normally I would have been able to take her but I was exhausted, and the hunger had come back with vengeance. My whole body ached with it. I even eyed Connie's corpse with curiosity, the way the last night's kebab in the fridge can look appetising at two in the morning.

Alex moved to extract the stake.

"No, don't!" I yelled, snapping my attention from the body back to Hal.

"Erm, s'cuse me, love, but I'm no' takin' orders from _you_. He's a vampire. He'll heal," she whined sarcastically as she pulled out the shard. The blood poured from him instantly.

"Fuck, ew! Shit," she spat, pushing her ethereal hand against the wound to apply pressure. It didn't seem to do any good. I joined her. She didn't push me away this time. His blood was cold.

"I did say."

"Whatever. Why the fuck's he bleeding like tha'?"

"Major artery, babes. Newsflash, he still has them."

"He'll heal though, right? **Right?**"

I nodded sadly, "Eventually, but it might take weeks. I met a vampire once who survived a wound like that without blood to help him heal. Total fucking nightmare, babes."

"And?"

"He went Barmy as a box of badgers! Rampaged across half of Cheshire like a rabid bastard once he'd healed. Fifty kills in a few days before I caught up with him. Killing him was a total mercy."

"Duh! Hal cannae _have_ blood! We're tryin' te get him clean."

"Well he has too, or do you _want_ a massacre on your hands?"

"Just stake me," Hal interrupted, weakly.

"Shut up, Hal," said Alex and I in unison.

"Alex, get McNair," I insisted.

"What are you going te do?" she asked with caution.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Do I not have a say?"

"Shut **up**, Hal!" Alex and I snapped at him again.

"Alex, just get Tom. Tell him everything. Everything. Please! I'll make sure Hal's fine, and when I'm done Tom can stake _me_ if he wants, but not Hal, this is all my doing. Do you understand?"

"No, Belinda! I don't want…"

"**Shut** **UP**, **Hal**!" we trilled.

"Fine. I'm getting Tom!" Alex agreed, "But if you're fucking me about though Belinda, Tom will be the least o' your worries!" she threatened.

"I swear, on my Mother's life, Alex. No jokes, no plans, no schemes. I'm going to fix this. Just. **Get.** **Tom**."

"Fuck me m'Lady, what'd your last slave die o'?" she snarked.

"Telepathic overload," I said, pointing at Mrs Simm, "Now you come to mention it, would you get rid of that too? It's too tempting."

"Fine, but when Tom stakes you I want you te know. I'm going to walk through every turd in Barry with your shoes on, 'babes'!" she said huffing her way to Mrs Simm. After she grabbed hold of the woman's flaccid arm, the two vanished.

In an instant I helped Hal free of the chair. He moaned in pain as I lifted him but seemed capable of moving one foot in front of the other until he collapsed on the red sofa. I had tried to maintain pressure on the wound as best I could but I couldn't stay with him _and _get him blood. I grabbed the gaffa roll from under the sofa and held it in my teeth, pulled my spare shirt out of my bag, sighed (it was Stella McCartney), and folded it into a compress. I lifted his shirt, pressed the fabric tightly into to the wound, wrapped the tape about Hal's torso to hold the fabric in place and pulled his shirt back down.

He was flitting in and out of consciousness, trying to push me away from helping the whole time. I had a horrible feeling he had given up on living. The ordeal with those ghosts must have done a number on him, it had certainly affected me. It was uncomfortably humbling. But I was a fighter, and I wasn't going to give up on him so easily, even if he was. I kissed him, because, hell, if he was going to try and fight me off I at least wanted something to show for it.

"Listen, Hal. I'm going to fix you."

"No!" he insisted and wrapped his hand around the threads of my shirt. I thought he might tare it.

"Babes, staking isn't an option, not any more. Deal with it. I've changed my mind. So I'm not going to countenance the suggestions about that kind of nonsense."

"It's not...I'm not...worth..." I could hear blood which had flooded up into his esophagus bubble at the back of his voice, mixed with the light fizz of and whistle of air escaping from a punctured lung. I didn't need to have my Girl Guide First Aid badge to know this wasn't going to end well.

"Hun, you're now bordering on being tediously emo, please stop it, concentrate your energy on not going bonkers while I work out how to fix this." I normally spent weeks planning, not such luxury this time.

"Okay, babes, so the way I see it we have two options. One: you suffer, go pocco-locco and probably kill, well, everybody (if your past credentials are anything to go on)."

"Stake me," Hal insisted again, trying, and failing to fight me off.

"Two: I find someone no one will miss, bite the bullet, do the deed, sort out my boy-toy and then deal with the consequences."

"I've lived long enough, I've killed th.."

"Shut up, Hal, we all have a purpose and odds are you haven't found yours yet otherwise you'd not even _bother_ detoxing in the first place. So shut up and just let Linny do her thing will you. Now, it's the middle of the day, a work day, which means in Barry there are probably only a handful of people not at work or school. Likely candidates are: mums, retirees or chavs. Chavs it is. You're okay slumming it right? I could knock on doors? But..." the logistics ran through my mind. The truth was that I needed to leave or get someone to come here but I wasn't sure it I left could I get back in once I had left? Did I need to be invited? How did that work? Was it worth the risk?

"You know what you need, take out!" I thought, "Oh, 999! We could get a paramedic? No, too public, too risky. I could book a cab, call a plumber...I have like premium roadside assistance, I could call up AA and get them out here in thirty to 'sort out my car'. No, too traceable. is there a yellow pages here? No. I've got it! I'll call 118. There you go. Not just a pretty face." I looked around for a landline, "Estate Agent! I'll call someone and get them come 'evaluate' the house for..."

I heard a knock! Did I hear someone knock at the door? If they did it was with the shittiest timing imaginable. "Fuck me it's like Piccadilly station in here," I said with a slight laugh, and despite Hal's lame attempts to hold me back I pulled myself away from him and took myself to the blinds to inspect the interlopers.

On the steps outside, looking at the potted plants and hanging baskets with fascination, was bloody Aggie! Next to her, joy of joys, my fucking Father! Aggie saw me part the slats of the blind with my fingers and waved crazily at me.

"OMG, Linny, Hihihi!" she said, nudging my Father at her side and pointing.

_Fuck, I had forgotten that I had texted her the address._

I didn't expect her to come! I expected her just to send Stu with my stuff in a few days. She was pointing at her phone with an 'I'm sorry' face. Shit, my phone, I had killed it. Hal had cleaned it into the bin. She must have tried to warn me. When Daddy got a bee in his bonnet he was as stubborn as I was. He must have forced the address out of her and decided to come get me.

My tongue felt fat in my mouth. My top pallet was dry.

I looked at Hal, pale and beautiful on the couch.

I couldn't let them in. I shouldn't let them in.

I let them in.


	21. Part 21 Bloody Aggie

**21 – Bloody Aggie**

Aggie threw herself at me like a happy, stupid puppy. I clamped my teeth onto my bottom lip to stop myself from biting her.

"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinny-pooh! OhEmGee this place is A-fucking-dorable. Have you _seen_ the cutsie little beachfront. Totally love it. Holiday Dest' of amazingness, yah. Where's the ladies? I've been totally busting since Briz and your Dad refused to stop at the services."

"You shouldn't be here, Ags. I don't want you here. I said just 'send my stuff'. Was that so tough to grasp? You need to go back to the car. I'm serious. Now!"

Aggie grabbed a box of my things from the front step, the one from the end of my bed, and dropped it by the stairs.

"I know but, like, you know what your Dad's, like, _like_? Right?" She pushed past me and stopped stock still when she saw Hal. Turning on her Choos to look back at me, thumbs up and mouthing, _Nice!_ "So, Bathroom? Upstairs?"

I nodded and Aggie bounced upstairs as fast as she could as Daddy strolled into the Honolulu Heights like had had just stumbled into a crack den. His eyes glanced the 70s wall-paper. His shined shoes scuffed at the flat and over-worn carpet. He ran his finger along the dado, "At least it's clean." His faced ached with distaste, "but this is _not_ where you should be on your birthday Belinda."

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away, Daddy."

"Now, now, I was hardly going to miss my girl's big day now was I? If the mountain won't go to the Mohammed, that's the saying right? Who's this chap?" He said pointing at Hal, disrespect dripped from his tongue as usual. _Chap! _ I thought, _CHAP?_ _That's Lord fucking Harry, scourge of Europe, A1 cleaner, and the best shag I've had you walking blood bag._

I was finding it impossible not to tear him apart, but the thought of having all the blood to myself held me back. I'd drain him dry in a moment and Aggie would run screaming. Then there wouldn't be anything left for Hal. I couldn't have that. _Control, Belinda. Focus on Hal._

"No one," I lied. I smiled through the excruciating impulses, "Cup of Tea, Daddy?" With heavy steps, as if my shoes were full of cement, I pushed through to the kitchen and hoped Daddy would follow. He did. I sighed, and stilled my tremors by picking up the kettle, lifting the lid, turning on the tap, filling it, turning it off again. Every activity felt like it took great concentration and deserved great reward for completion. It was as if my brain was no longer wired to my limbs and senses, just to the fangs in my face and the urges screaming at the back of my mind.

"So Agnes said this is some kind of 'Intervention'. I've read about those in the 'Telegraph'. Is this friend of yours in some kind of trouble? Is it drugs?"

I laughed, it wasn't intentional, "No, Daddy. He's a vampire. He got staked by a ghost." I flipped the switch on the ancient kettle. The little light glowed, blood red. "So am I, come to mention it...A vampire that is."

"Belinda, I didn't come all this way for jokes. Does he need money? Are you in trouble?"

"Don't come all nicey-nicey and righteous with me Daddy. Besides, I'm telling the truth. The man lying on the couch is over five hundred years old. He killed over thirty people at Highcastle while your great grandfather was still scratching tics out of his backside. I came here to kill him and he turned me into a vampire. Oh, and I think I might actually love him. Sugar?"

I looked about for the condiments, scratching my head, "Wow, there's a lot of shit in this kitchen." I pulled the plug out of the sink bowl to drain the water. Daddy came nearer. The kettle began to boil.

"Belinda, this is madness. You're coming home with me. I think you need to see someone?"

"What like you got Mummy to 'see someone'?"

"Well, that is how all this started with her: ghosts and murders and voices."

"Are you going to lock me away like her then Daddy, so I can be safe? So I don't embarrass you?"

"Now, now it might not come to that. I just think it's been a very stressful few years for you and…"

Before he could finish I had grabbed him by the back of the head and brought his forehead down on to the counter top with a crunch. He bounced off the edge like an overinflated beachball and landed, uselessly, on the floor with a dull thud.

"What was that?" Aggie called from the sitting room, returning from upstairs.

"Nothing! Tea?" I asked poking my head through the swing doors with a smile.

"Yes please. Wow, this cutie of yours doesn't, like, look well Linny, shall I call 999?" Aggie was contemplating whether to perch on the white sofa opposite, it normally took her ages to make any kind of taxing decision such as this so I assessed I had time.

"No thanks, hun! Everything's fine," I added breathlessly and returned to the kitchen.

I hoiked up the dead weight of my, now unconscious, father so that his shoulders rested on the edge of the sink. With a clatter his Just-For-Men'd head lolled heavily onto the mugs in the bowl, which I proceeded to remove and stock on the side. I called back to Aggie, "I've got some medicine for him, twinkle. He'll be right as rain in just a tick. Just give him a wide berth. He tends to lash out when you least expect it."

I put the plug in the bowl and I patted Daddy on the back of the head, "Cheers Pops, ever so grateful."

I took a deep breath and then, with a kitchen knife, which I had found on the draining board, I cut his throat wide open and proceeded to fill the sink with his blood. I'm not going to lie, it felt really good. But I don't think that was because I was a vampire, just because he was such a bastard.

The little switch on the kettle flipped to off. I hummed and grabbed a couple of mugs as Daddy glugged his last into the stainless steel bowl. Aggie liked fruit tea, and there was a great selection. I chose her a 'Moment of Calm' because it amused me, made myself a strong coffee, and then, into six mugs, I scooped up a few pints of Daddy for Hal. I'd be able to resist having one myself, just about, until Hal had had his fill.

I returned to the living room with a big tray, and a smile.

"So Ags, did you bring everything I asked? Daddy's, like, totally agreed. I'm staying here a while."

Aggie clapped her hands as I handed her a 'Moment of Calm'. I placed two cups on the bar, for when Tom and Alex returned, and parked next to Hal on the red sofa with the remainder.

"Ew that's horrid looking medicine," Aggie said. She really wasn't very bright, but it was quite sweet really.

I lifted up Hal in my arms and held the first mug to his lips.

"Hal, hunny, babes, you're going to drink this for me aren't you?"

He shook his head.

"Hal, hunny, babes, open your eyes, look at me." He did, I smiled. I wanted him to see it was still me, that I had resisted this far, "you're going to drink this or I am. Do you understand? _You_ have to drink this, I made it for you specially."

"No. Please, Belinda. Don't make me. I can't go back to being…that. I'd rather you let me die."

"OhEmGee, it's like when Mummy used to make me take Syrup of Pigs. I was _such_ a Drama Queen! Seriously, Cutie, you look like crap. Take it already," droned Aggie.

"Hal, just one sip, while it's warm."

"No, I'm sorry," Hal said. He reached into his pocket. Before I knew it, with his arm shaking from the exertion, he was holding my Mummy's cross between us, "I'm sorry, Belinda, but I can't."

Aggie awwed, "Aww, you gave him your Mum's necklace. That's, like, so super cute, are you going to get married? Oh, can I be maid-of-honour? I'd be so brilliant at…"

I snatched the cross from Hal in anger, and threw it across the room. Strangely it didn't seem to affect me anymore. I wasn't sure why, and I didn't really care. Perhaps because I was focussed on something bigger, more important. It felt like the most important thing I had ever done in my life. It felt, well, purposeful.

If it was the last thing I was going to do I was going to make Hal drink. I was going to make sure he was safe.

"For the love of Pete, Hal, fucking pull it together. This is for the best. Trust me." I grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him up to the mug, forced his mouth open and poured. He fought it at first but soon he drank willingly, grasping each hand to the mug until it was drained dry. I couldn't reach the next one fast enough, then the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth. I could go get some more but I soon realised why it was a bad idea to leave him alone with Aggie. Or was it a bad idea? He could have Aggie. I didn't care. If it came to a choice of whose company I'd rather keep Hal would win hands down.

I looked up to find Aggie. I had been so focused on feeding Hal that I hadn't noticed how quiet she had gone. Aggie didn't do quiet. She did annoying and bouncy and loud.

Finding her no longer upon the white sofa I realised she was up, and having a look around. She was just about to go into the kitchen! No. I couldn't have that. Aggie was annoying, and bouncy and loud...and a _legendary_ screamer.

I left Hall's side in a shot. I grabbed her by the hair and snatched her away from the door. I dragged her as far away as I could and then, well, then I lost it.

"Shit, Linny, I was just going to get a top up. No need to get all TOWIE on me. Um Belinda, Linny, hunny, there's, like, something, sorta, kinda, wrong…with your eyes…"

What can I say?

Humans are like Pringles. Once you pop, you can't stop.


	22. Part 22 One Step Forwards

**22 – One step forwards**

* * *

><p>Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening we tried to carry this message to others,<p>

and to practice these principles in all our affairs

* * *

><p>I awoke to the sweet stench of cooling blood. I could taste it upon my pallet. My tongue sought it out between the cracks in my teeth. My arm wiped it from my chin. Soon recalling what had led to my second libation of the day, I tore off my shirt to find Belinda's makeshift tourniquet. Sodden with my darkening blood, I ripped it away to find that the hole in my chest was stitching nicely. Then I recalled there were two humans who had come to the door. I could only taste one on my tongue.<p>

Still in pain, I pulled my shirt back on and sat up with difficulty. I saw, to my profound disappointment, a dead girl, prostrate upon the carpet by the bar. Her neck had been pulled apart. Belinda had done it then? She had finally fallen. My cruel angel. She was sitting in my chair, staring at the body of her friend. Her knees lifted to her chin. Her shoes strewn across the floor, and her toes hugging to the wooden seat. She sat like some kind of perched bird clutching to a mug in her hand, which said 'World's Best Dad'. She was crying from blackened eyes as she drank from it. I could tell when someone was blood drunk. I had seen it so many times before.

"Belinda?"

"I killed my Daddy," she pouted. "He's in the kitchen," then she laughed, pointing to the mug of blood in her hand. "It was the only clean one left, how fucking ironic is that. Fuck...I cut his throat with a kitchen knife. How fucked up is that!" She started crying then, all that strength fell from her like a curtain, "I mean he was a first class douche bag, Hal, but he was my Daddy!" she sniffed back the tears, "I don't know why I'm crying. I never liked the prick. Want a cup? There's shit loads left. Cold now though."

I shook my head, of course the draw was stronger than it had been in years, but felt that I had drunk enough. I had a strange feeling of satisfaction. Honestly, I felt I could go another fifty five years. I felt more capable of control than I ever had; perhaps I had Belinda to thank for that? Perhaps I was deluding myself, however, that had happened before. One delusion could so easily lead to another, and another, and another. Holding onto my chest for fear my heart would fall out of its socket I stumbled off the sofa and over towards her.

"What about the girl, Belinda? Her too?"

She nodded, "I couldn't help it." She fingered the fangs in her mouth and blinked away the hunger. Her stare returned to that piercing blue.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, "You could have run far away by now."

"Because," she smiled wildly, "I want you to come with me, babes." I noticed it was gone now, that spark in the corners of her smile.

I sat on the arm heavily, "I'm sorry Belinda." I said, and even though the word had been so well rehearsed it didn't seem empty or cowardly to say it now. "I think I need to stay here, with my friends."

"Fine. Then I'm staying too," Belinda said. She chugged back what was left in the mug and handing it to me, "Strap me in, babes, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

I stared at her in astonishment. Did she mean what I think she meant?

"Belinda, No. Tom will be back any second. He's expecting me to be where you are. I need this Belinda. Control and confinement, remember?"

"Pppft! Babes, you're just fandabidosi! I had to force that shit down you. Come on, do it now before I change my mind." She dropped her legs and made herself comfortable.

"You should leave. I won't stop you. I owe you that. Go, now, please."

"Nope," she sighed, "Fine, I'll do it." She began to strap herself down.

"Belinda!" I stopped her.

"I just killed my _father_ and my fucking BFF! And I bloody enjoyed it, Hal! Do you have any idea what I will do if I leave here without you! Because I'm terrified!" she snapped, "I _want_ Tom to stake me. I really do. I deserve it. I used to dust people like me before breakfast. Christ, do you have any idea how close I've come to staking myself in the last ten minutes. I'm disgusting. I am repulsive, cruel, vindictive and, worst of all, very good at killing things. I have already three deaths on my conscience. Don't make me add more. You're fine. You're safe. You're alive. That's all I wanted. I have that and now…" Then I saw it. I realised that although that spark wasn't in her smile any more. It had moved. It sat in the corner of her eye as it flicked back and forth, searching my features with desperation, no, hope. There was still some humanity in her.

"Now all I want is to eat," she warned. "I will tare the world apart to get what I want, Hal, if you won't stop me, who will?"

I nodded. I understood that feeling better than anyone. Her coordination was poor. She laughed at her inability to find the holes in the straps, "If the girls at Cheltenham Ladies College could see me now!" she giggled.

With as much care as I could muster, slowly, as I was still in a great deal of pain, I took care of the rest. Swapping places was so strange. It felt wrong, a little like an out of body experience. Although I knew this was for the best.

"I've never trusted anyone like this before, what do you think of that?" Belinda smiled, "After everything I've done you'd be in your rights to stake me, you know. I wouldn't blame you. It would be mercy."

"Don't say that Belinda, I'm not going to stake you," I felt like she was my responsibility, something I had broken that I needed to fix. Like the ornaments from the shelf. "Aside from the fact that I don't want another death on my conscience either, I think we're even now. I'll explain to Tom. We'll look after you. It'll be okay. I promise."

"He won't understand."

"He's a good man. He'll understand," I bluffed.

"Understand wha'?" said Tom bitterly, to my left, closing the front door. He had Belinda's stake in his hand. Alex appeared at my right.

"Tom!" I stood, a little too quickly, the ache in my chest was raw. I held my hand to the wound, stumbled, almost tripped over the blonde on the floor and only finally managed to gain purchase by grasping hold of the bar. "Belinda she…"

"I can see wha' happened, mate, I've got eyes." His tone was blunt, so similar to his first dealings with me. The knuckles gripping the stake were white as he pointed to the body on the carpet.

To intentionally misquote Ian Fleming: once is happenstance, twice is stupidity, thrice is seen to be carelessness. As much as death seemed like a welcome option I wasn't going to, as Mrs Cutler put it, be so cowardly, nor so careless, as to seek out a staking again. No matter how irate Tom was now that he had finally returned from the café.

"The van's round the back and there's a body in the kitchen too," Alex said, folding her arms, "Nae ghosts though. They probably got _their_ doors, lucky bastards."

"Daddy's probably haunting the London Stock exchange. Aggie," she laughed a little, "Aggie didn't realise she was dead and thought the door was the one for the kitchen."

"Tom, she's blood drunk. We need to help her," I tried.

"An' why's that, _mate_?" He snapped at me, pointing the stake. The way he said 'mate' cut like a knife. Alex really had told him everything then.

"Because…" I struggled.

"Because yer turned her inta a vampire, mate, didn't you? Lovely lady like that and you 'ad to go top 'er. I'm not gunna lie, I'm bloody disappointed mate! After everythin' we went through."

"She tried to stake me! It wasn't on _purpose_!"

"He's not lying. Got him good too didn't I, sexy bum!"

"Belinda! You're not helping."

"Sexy bum?" Alex guffawed, "Oh, I dunno."

"Look, it's all academic. I'm fine and we're going to stay clean, together. Can't we just leave it at that?" I asked with hope. "No one needs to get staked. Again."

"Sorry, mate," Tom shook his head, "She's a bad influence. I'm all for believin' there's good vampires n'all but…don't push it."

"She's fine," I explained.

"I'm fine," Belinda giggled. "Fiiine, what time's breakfast? Harry, do chavs taste of Ginsters? I used to like pasties. I'll have one of them," she smiled wistfully.

"Please, Tom. I'm sorry, but look, I'm good. Distinctly, and surprisingly, not feeling remotely_ evil_. I think we did it Tom, I think we broke the cycle!" I was smiling, for the first time in five hundred years it really felt as if I was getting somewhere.

Belinda chose that moment to begin to sing, "_They say we're young and we don't know..."_

"Mate, she's mental. Not good. How're yer goin' to keep off the blood like with a mental person araand?"

"_We won't find out unti-i-il we grow…"_

"She's fine, I can fix her. We can fix her."

"_Well I don't know if all that's true…"_

"She's killed _three_ people. **In the 'Ouse**, like, what would Annie say? There were rules n'stuff about that."

"_'Cause you got me, and baaaaby I got you…_"

"Mrs Simm doesn't count! Be quiet, Belinda!"

"_Babe…"_

Tom shook his head, and started pacing, scratching his head with the stake, "I can't think straight. It's been a proper mad day at the caf', an' then I come 'ome to this, like!"

Alex interrupted, "Hey, what's the hoover doing out? We're you cleanin' up again? Seriously, and you think _vampirism_ is your problem?"

"_I got you babe."_

"Belinda, please. For God's sake, for one moment in your life, do as you're told."

"_Iiiiii goooott …"_

"Fuck me, Hal, she's more annoying than you!" Alex added, negotiating with the open Hoover bag.

"_Yooooou…"_

"No. I'm sorry, Hal, she made me promise. She knew it would get to this," said Tom with resolution.

"No!" I begged, "Please, Tom, I'll look after her, please. I need her to stay clean. She trusted me."

"Sorry, mate, you shouldn't look."

"_Baaaabe..."_

Tom raised the stake. I grabbed his arm. Tried to fight him off, but I hadn't the strength. Every bone in my body ached. There was a stabbing pain in my chest that caused me to yell out, collapse on the sofa and wince in pain.

Tom took advantage of my moment of weakness and brought the stake down with commitment, his full body weight following it.

There was a crunching sound, then a crash, the sound of breaking wood. I heard Belinda squeak.

When the pain passed, and could opened my watering eyes, she was gone. The chair, which had been my prison, and briefly hers, was broken in two and there was nothing but ash where she had been. It was all so quick. I didn't even get the chance to thank her.

"**Bastard Hound I'm going to rip your fucking head off!" **I screamed, leaping upon my friend with my fists flying, caring not for the pain for a moment as the adrenaline in my system flooded my senses. Swearwords and curses more imaginative than any of my rageful utterings spilled from my mouth as I flew my fists in his general direction. A stream of blood from his nose caught my knuckles and I winced. That gave him the upper hand, he launched, twisted me over, face planted me on the couch and wrenched my arm behind my back.

"Hal, Hal, mate, calm down! It 'ad to be done. She were nice'n'all but she were a bad influence."

"**She trusted me, you bloody Neanderthal! Get your filthy paws off me…"**

"Thin ice, Hal, seriously, you wanna follow 'er, like? I'll do it ye'know. Only reason you ain't dust is cause yer me mate. But you gorra earn back a coupl'a points, like. So calm down an' we'll sort out what we do next."

I struggled, "What's going to happen next? What's going to happen next is I'm going to cut your throat when you fucking sleep you **abhorrent fucking animal**!"

"Aye, well we'll see about that. Alex?"

"Yup?" she said appearing at the head of the sofa with a sad smile. Rentaghosting four feet seemed a little absurd.

"Get us another chair will yer?"


	23. Part 23 Two steps back

**23 - Two steps back**

The second time was very different. I was not planning on being compliant. Confining me was not for my own good. It was for theirs. I really did want to kill Tom. I really would have. But I didn't scream or rail after it was done.

I think my silence unnerved them.

Good.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Day 0<em>**

The afternoon Tom called in sick to the man who owned the café, claiming to him that he had stomach flu and to me that he needed time to 'think'. I'm surprised he didn't ask for the whole week, or a month. He looked like he was about to take an exam in astrophysics, it would have been amusing had I not wanted to tare the skin from his bones every time I looked at him.

First, the great genius decided that we couldn't have dead bodies on the premises.

"We need to get rid of 'em, cause it ain't good for Hal to have 'em lying araand like," he surmised, with levels of astuteness that would make a baboon blanche.

Alex protested that it 'wasnae fair to the families to just get rid o' them'. There was a squabble, at the end of which Tom promised Alex he wasn't planning on disposing of the bodies, except to mean that he wanted to get them out of the house to somewhere where they could be, "faand by the p'lice, like proper, and be buried an' that."

Astonishing.

Why Tom was not yet a criminal mastermind often left me bewildered.

There was a call at three, from the café owner, informing Tom that he didn't care whether he had Ebola, there was a queue from the afternoon's local team football match outside and he needed someone in. Tom told Alex not to leave me alone under any circumstances, in case I, "accidentally, on purpose, ate someone again." And that, "No humans, under any circumstances, whatsoever, should pass over that thresh'old, righ'?"

Once she was alone Alex took what was left of the shredded blonde girl into the kitchen with a recalcitrant sigh. Passively aggressively propping the door open with a chair, so that she could see me, she attempted to clean and had some kind of fit over whatever Belinda had left in the sink.

"Did I mention, Four brothers! And even they didnae make this much o'a bloody mess! F'therecord, it never would've worked, Hal, you two. Not. Ever."

She came back to fume in my general direction about how _I_ would have staked Belinda myself, if I had been able to see what a mess she'd made. When she realised she was getting nothing out of me except dead stares she lost her head of steam, told me to stop doing "the freaky starey shit 'cause it's fuckin' mega-creepy, Hal," and then decided to go through Belinda's things to find out where best to 'drop off' the corpses.

"Be respectful, Alex" I insisted, quietly, as she flopped onto the sofa with Belinda's bag and a big wooden box, which was by the doorway and said _'Private. B.V.W.'_ in gold embossed lettering. The box had a paper label tied onto a combination lock, which read_ 'Do not open! This means you, babes!'_

"Fuck, _now_ he speaks, '_be respectful'. _Fine, whatever, I'll be all gentle with your girlfriend's shit."

Dear me, someone sounded bitter.

I suspect she was trying to get a rise out of me, possibly hoping for a squabble over silence. I didn't say any more. I just watched her unpack Belinda's things.

The bag contained:

- Additional needles and tranquilizer. Alex's assessment: "Eech, Pointy."

- two changes of undergarments. Alex's assessment: "Seriously! This does it for you?"

- rope. Alex: "Kinky."

- one book, with V&A bookmark, entitled 'Shopaholic & Sister'. Alex: "Meh, Predictable."

- another, well-thumbed, book, from which the cover had fallen off, 'The Count of Monte Cristo' and of which Alex's assessment was, "Bugger me, that's long!"

- a make-up bag the size of a small infant, upon which the zip had broken. Alex: "Facefilla'."

- keys to an x-type Jaguar, "Bloody Hell! That's _her_ car?"

- lastly, a photograph, which fell from the Count's spine, of an older woman with Belinda's piercing blue eyes standing with her arm around a teenage girl. Alex: "Botox much?"

After she ended the affair by tipping the bag up and shaking it, resulting in the discovery of two crusty, uneaten pieces of gum, a penny, a button and a pen-top, and the small key to the handcuffs that lay attached uselessly to the fireplace, but no information on where to take the bodies. She turned her detective's eye to the box. It took her less than a few minutes to jimmy her way into the wooden box. Her eyes opened wide when she pulled out what was within.

Packed in yards of bubble wrap, ("Totally popping tha' baby later", said Alex) she found a beautiful blue and white ceramic urn. Tied around the neck was another label. It read _'For the record: Belinda Weaver does not belong in a Hoover!'_ the words had been written in what I had come to recognise as Belinda's elegant calligraphy.

Alex laughed, "Well blow me! She had you well sussed, Hal, look. She must'a known tha' she'd be dust sooner or later."

I swallowed my anger, frankly I was going to either scream or cry and I wanted to show neither weakness. She could keep trying. I wasn't going to budge. There was one thing I had to say to Alex, but I was waiting for the right moment.

"I should pro'lly get her out the dustbuster then 'ey?" she chirped, "Don' want'e be _disrespectful_ or nothin'."

I think she noticed my eyes on the photo. She turned it over in her fingers. "Do you want me te put this in your room, somewhere safe, ye know?"

I tried to resist the urge to nod. I didn't want to show any weakness. I could be strong, if I wanted to.

Alex smiled, "Fine, I'll just…" she put everything back in Belinda's bag and tidied it away. She pocketed the tranquiliser and needles and removed the handcuff from the fireplace, "Might come in handy eh". Not long after she disappeared into the kitchen and shut the door behind her, despite Tom's warnings.

I used the peace to let myself grieve. When she returned, and placed the ceramic urn on the dining table, presumably full of whatever was left of Belinda, I was strong again.

When Tom returned from the rush at the café he found Belinda's wallet under the sofa and thumbed through it. He hadn't looked me in the eye since he'd staked Belinda but I hadn't taken my eyes off him. He found her driving license, which he handed to Alex.

"Somewhere near 'ere should do like," he said, not looking up. He searched for the remote for the television and found it. "Caantdaan should be on. Wanna watch, mate?" He said, expecting a response but didn't look up to see if he was going to receive one. "Ooo. Don't mind if I do, Thomas, thank you for looking after me and staking the nasty vampire lady what was goin' to make me evil, like."

Alex laughed at his ludicrous impression. I didn't.

I could have cut the air in the room with my straight-razor, if Alex hadn't hidden it.

"Fuck me, Hal, seriously, get over yoursel' already," sighed Alex eventually, to break the tension. "Shit, look, I cannae bare this fucking atmosphere, boys, seriously. I mean sulking is one thing but this is fucking Biblical. Make it up already. Hal, it were only this mornin' you were fuckin' beggin' me te stake her! Need I remind you she smoked _me_, killed _three_ people and staked _you_ in the _gut_. She wanted te go! She fucking told me to get Tom to do it. An' _you_ …**you**," she kicked Tom in the shin, "He's your best-mate and _you_ staked his bit o' skirt. Total wing-man failure. Unacceptable. Seriously, you should pro'lly at least _attempt_ te apologise."

"He started it," Tom gruffed.

"Balls to this! The two'o ye are worse than teenagers. I'm goin'te hang out with the corpses. They've got considerably better repartee!" She snatched Belinda's card from the sofa and read the address, "All seriousness, Tom, I really doubt I can rentaghost them _both_ all way te London! I might have te stop off places on the way. Want anything from the services?"

"Erm, a bag of them foamy pic'n'mix prawn things, they're dead nice they are. You want anything, Hal? Mate?" He asked, attempting to be friendly again. He looked at me in the eye for the first time since he had done the deed. Perhaps this was his attempt to build bridges.

I smiled, looked calmly to Alex and said, "You do realise that you're just as responsible for their deaths as she was?"

"Fuck you, Hal," Alex snapped, stomped into the kitchen, and then was gone. I presumed, from the rapid improvement in odour, that she had taken the bodies with her.

Tom stared at me for a while, "Y'know, I kinda preferred it when you was spoutin' profanities, mate." When he got nothing back from me he sighed and aimed the remote control at the television. Finding the box unresponsive he got up to thwack it on the top, "Bollocks, Hal, what happened to the telly?"

I smiled.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 1<strong>_

Breakfast newspapers time. Tom had fetched them from the shop and was attempting to read them, trying to rebuild my routine about us as if yesterday never happened. Belinda hadn't been mentioned. "Mornin', Hal! Rise an' shine, mate!"

I hadn't slept, of course. With fresh blood in my bones, a wound to heal, and all of the previous day's experiences to process it was hardly surprising. It was very simple: I was going to leave. When I had convinced Tom and Alex I was clean and safe and harmless enough to let me go I planned to fetch my things, a few items from Southend, my dominoes, my books, something to remind me of Annie, Belinda, even Tom, possibly Alex, and I would be gone. What would happen after that would be in the hands of the Gods, as they say, though I suspect in my case the saying 'the devil makes work for idle hands' would end up being more applicable. I was bored of this pitiful excuse for a life.

"Still givin' us the silent treatment then?" Tom slurped at his cornflakes, knowing well how much it infuriated me. I bit my lip, gave him nothing. He flipped open the papers and read, slowly, and with excruciatingly poor diction, through the first few pages. As usual I expected he would bore himself by page five and just read out the headlines until something grabbed his attention. After the usual political squabbles, tax whinges, petrol flim-flam and celebrity twaddle he reached something of interest.

"_CEO Body Faand in Thames._ 'Ere we go, Hal, _Richard Weaver, Managing Director and Founder of Weaver Digital was faand in the Thames near Richmond last nigh'. Police are treatin' it as suspis…suspichus… _That means that they're goin' to look inter it, right? Hal? Shit." He didn't wait for an answer.

Alex returned looking tired and dropped a bag of Pic'n'mix on the table, "They only had the foamy bananas." She declared with triumph.

I failed to see why it had taken her so long to get back. She had clearly deposited the body the night before.

"Ye dropped 'im in the River?" Tom asked, pushing the paper towards Alex as he poured the last of his cornflakes from his bowl down his throat and grabbed his coat.

"I slipped. You two made friends yet?"

"Nah, 'Is Lordship's still sulkin', we'll get there won't we though, mate? Telly's broke. See yer later," He pointed at me, like had had done every day, "Hal, Remember the rule!" We all had our little routines, "Hal!"

I didn't answer.

"Oh fer fuck's sake, Hal, I'm sorry alrigh'!"

I gave him nothing. He sighed and slammed the door as he left.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 2<strong>_

That night I had begun to feel the hunger return in rolling waves. Why did I think that feeling of satiation would last forever? Sometimes it felt like my brain had shrunk to the size of a walnut, and that the meaty tethers attached to the immovable shell of my skull cap were trying to collapse my head in upon itself. Sometimes the pain started in my gut and spread out in explosions through my pelvis, nailing my legs to the floor like steal rods. But most often I felt it in my chest. My sore heart burned with it.

Of course it was always going to be worse this time. It wasn't like I was detoxing from a few pitiful mouthfuls. While the pints from Belinda had been strengthening, the pints from her father were weak as gnats' milk. It was like my body had chased down ten pints of Châteauneuf-du-Pape with a bucket of warm Hooch. Every five minutes I wanted to heave, spasm, scream or kill something. I think the auditory hallucinations had begun again too, whispers, bangs and screams in the night had often woken me from the shakes. I shook away the sensations as madness and tried to focus on managing the pain without screaming for help from Tom or Alex. My tongue tasted of my own bitter blood in the morning. I think I had nearly chewed it off in the night.

When Tom stamped down the stairs I tried the best to hide it. I wasn't going scream, or cry or call out for my so called 'friends'. I was better than that. Mrs Cutler's assessment of me had cut to the quick and the loss of Belinda, just when she had chosen to trust _me _to help _her_, was salt in the wound.

Luckily Tom and Alex were too distracted by current affairs to pay me too much attention. They were arguing over the cornflakes. I looked up when I heard Alex say Belinda's name.

"…_Daughter of CEO Richard Weaver also reportedly missing, and his Personal Assistant, identified this morning by family as Ms Agnes Fitzwarren-Parke, discovered dead yesterday, in what seems to have been a vicious attack, detectives at Scotland Yard have appealed for witnesses to…" _Alex read, "Shit! We need te decide what to do, Tom!"

"You shouldn't read that stuff, Alex, it don't matter no more. Can't we just put it be'ind us like? It's Hal we need to worry abaat."

"That's totally admirable and everything, Tom, but do I need to remind you that it's no jus' Hal copin' with this shit. No' just the people tha' died. An s'cuse me for mentioning it but anyway her car's still outside! They can trace it!"

"Shit! Can yer…" he waved his arms around ambiguously, like a magician, "...somewhere else, like?"

"I cannae rentaghost a fecking X-Type!"

I think I passed out from pain at this point.


	24. Part 24 Something worthwhile

****24 - Something worthwhile**_  
><em>**

**_Day 3_**

"Shit, Hal, please, you cannae seriously keep this up?" Alex was tentatively trying to clean the fever from my forehead with a cold flannel. I was putting up a fight. "This megasulk is killin' the both o'ye? Plus, it's BORING. It's no worth it. Seriously, if you _knew_ how pointless this was!"

It was Tom's day off and he was out, having decided to drive Belinda's car to the docks and push it into the water. Alex decried the activity as a "fuckin' tragedy of epic proportions!" and only after a deal of persuasion agreed to stay behind and make sure, "Hal don't choke on 'is own self importance, like."

He had been hours, and despite Alex's warnings to 'keep the car off the radar Smokey', I was wondering if he had been arrested by the Heddlu for theft. I had doubted he would be able to handle such a powerful car. Images of pile ups and Tom's mangled frame had been flashing through my mind and I was battling the urge to be worried and ask Alex to send out a search party. I was surprised that Alex didn't seem concerned that he might have been pulled over by the police and arrested, for the double murder and suspected kidnapping, that the press was so cockahoop about.

That Sunday papers were fat with the story. Alex had stolen a full suite to check that Barry wasn't on the radar:

_"Police suspect mafia link to Weaver murders."_

_"New evidence of illegal dealings at Weaver Digital emerges."_

_"Hotline flooded with false sightings of Bombshell Belinda"_

_"Chief of Police defends MET on evidence loss, last movements of Weavers remain mystery"_

_"Does the evidence point to a Murder/suicide? Our analysis, pages 3&4."_

_Editorial: "Blighted fortunes of Weaver Digital, is the MET disregarding the only theory that makes sense?"_

_Comment: "Is Lady Linny the new Lord Lucan?"_

_Style: "Get that Lady Linny look on the high street for less than £50!"_

_People: "Prince Harry's Heartbreak over Agnes Fiztwarren-Parke, the truth!"_

_Exclusive to Mail on Monday! Weaver's Wife Tells All! 'He had it coming' says Bonkers Bride"_

_"Weaver Murders, are we witnessing a cover up?"_

Alex dropped the flannel in the bowl and growled, pulling up the black chair and parking in it cross-legged with her head in her hands so that _she_ could stare at _me_ a while, "Boring!" She declared eventually, and span in the chair, "I mean you don't even have telly now! There should be a law about makin' me live here and miss 'Neighbours'. Do you think they have 'Neighbours' on the Other Side? Do you think they have chips? I miss chips. So, look, I mean, so, there was this letter right, in Belinda's box, aaand I thought I should read it to you. But you've been such a **class-A** dick the last few days, I didn't know whether I should, you know. But Tom, who's still your_ mate_, despite, you know, the whole being-a-dick, drinkin-my-blood, beating-him-up, sulking-like-a-five-year-old ... thing, said I should. So," she pulled a small card from her pocket and waved it in front of her face as she span in the chair, "since there's nothin' else decent round here te read. Not one sports mag for a start. Shall we give it a go?"

The Count of Monte Cristo was lying on the sofa, under a cushion. It was splayed a few chapters in. I know she didn't like me to think she was enjoying it so she read it when she thought I was sleeping or otherwise distracted by my struggles.

She mock-coughed and began. I tried to hold in my emotions. _Control yourself, Hal, focus on something bigger than the hunger. Not them. You can't focus on them, not any more, focus on…_

"Hi Mummy," Alex was putting on her best English accent.

"Sooo, if you're reading this I'm probably dead, or something.

Sorry about that.

The thing is I learned something a while ago and I never told anyone about it. I wanted to write to tell you what your little girl has learned.

Thing is, success, fame, and money, looks, family and friends, they're just accessories to the great outfit of life. You can dress anything up with them, but ultimately if you're naked underneath, people can tell. I realised a while ago that my life was kind of naked.

What I wanted was a little black dress of a life.

Something simple that doesn't need to do anything else except to feel good against your skin, a life that people could look at and say it was timeless and pure. Something that doesn't need to be haute couture, covered in so ostentation it blinds; that doesn't need to define a trend or try too hard to break one. Something that was just … worth it. I don't want to change the world, Mummy, or own it, or even be noticed by it, I just want to wear it.

If my life meant something, to just one person, a total stranger, then i've decided that's just good enough for me.

I've gone out to get my little black dress of life, Mummy. And that if all is right with the world then I will have died wearing it: Doing something I love, something worthwhile, or just something that makes a difference to one person who has the potential to be better than I am.

If I have succeeded then don't be sad. I died the person I wanted to be.

If I haven't then I promise you I'll haunt the world long enough to do it!

But if I come home as anything more or less than that, then honestly I didn't deserve the life I had.

Oh, I wanted to say I love you, because I never did.

Linny

xoxo"

She put the letter on her lap and rolled her eyes, "Sheesh, she really had a thing about clothes. I dinnae get women," Alex drawled with a smile before nudging me in the knee affectionately. "Look, I'm kidding, it's kinda deep, I like it, okay. She was alright. I said it. And it sucks you killed her, and it sucks she had te be a vampire, and it sucks that Tom staked her. But maybe it was for the best, eh? And maybe, the best thing you can do now is make something o' this life she gave you back, and stop sulking like a toddler before Tom stakes you too!"

I thought about everything Belinda had said, about admitting I had no power over what I was, that there was something bigger to strive for; about trusting people, my friends, her; about admitting to the things I had done, facing them and moving forward. It made me feel grateful, not just to be alive, when I could be dead, insane, or nothing more than dust; but to have been lucky to have survived long enough to be the vampire Belinda Weaver chose to help.

"Thank you," I croaked.

Alex threw her arms around me and hugged me. She caught herself and pulled away, "Sorry, awkward."

I didn't think ghosts could blush.

I wondered, maybe everything was going to be alright, "So, now that we have that sorted, would you mind letting me go?"

"Haha! Nice try, Hal, nice try."

**"Fucking let me go!"** I spat. Channeling the pain through my rage once more.

She ruffed my hair patronisingly, "Good te have you back, sunshine. I'll put the kettle on shall I?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 4<strong>_

It seemed that things were back to 'normal'. Alex was working hard to wind me up. Tom was telling me repeatedly how I could beat the monster inside, how he was there for me. The swells of rage and pain and anxiety were rising and falling with regularity. But something was still missing. We all knew it. It wasn't the same as it was before. They trusted me a lot less.

"Remember, Hal!" Tom said, pointing at me before leaving for work that afternoon.

"I can do this," I retorted.

"Too right,mate"

Alex landed on the bar stool and slammed a paper down on the table, "Have you seen this!" she was riled. Tom closed the door and came to investigate.

"Wha'?"

"THIS!" Alex said, "_Body of Belinda Weaver found!"_

I looked up, "What? No! That can't be!"

"I KNOW!" Alex snarked, "Trust me, Hal, I really know how is much that is not possible."

"Tom staked her!" I spat.

"Yeah, I staked 'er, didn't I," Tom added with little confidence, snatching up the paper and trying to decipher the text, like a labrador trying to read Japanese. It was a tabloid, shouldn't take him too long.

"_Shock revelations in Chelsea Weaver Mystery! Lady Veronica 'Ighcastle (Weaver), astranged wife of Thames-floater Richard, last night identified a body faand by the MET as daughter, Stunner Belinda Weaver! New evidence, seen exclusively by reporters at the Mail, nah suggests the mystery solved! MET officers confirmed, to our reporters last night, that they now believe Love Rat CEO Richard Weaver took 'is life after killin' Blonde Bit-on-the-Side, Agnes Fizwilliam-Parke, and daughter…"_

"But that's not true, it can't be!" I defended.

"Duh, I know, it's getting covered up. It's the club _all over again_!" Alex said, "I'm goin' to see her."

"Who?" I asked, "Who could possibly clear this fucking mess up?"

But she was gone. Goodness knows where. Tom threw his coat on the stairs, "Right, so I'll guess I'll stay 'ere then. You wanna play Boggle, Hal?"

**"No! I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY FUCKING BOGGLE!"**

Forty minutes into Boggle Alex popped back into the living room. She was pale as a sheet.

"What?" I snapped. For the first time since I had met her Alex was speechless.** "WHAT!"**

Tom was tidying away the game. "Calm down, Hal, it'll all be okay, mate."

Alex shook her head, paced a bit, then turned to Tom, "Van's gone."

"Who's Van?" I asked, "And what the hell has this person got to do with Belinda's body?"

"That's not possible," Tom stood, knocking the little plastic pieces on the floor.

I struggled, "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

"I'm telling you. It's gone. I went to talk te…well I went te check on it and it was gone!"

"Well it can't've driven itself off, like?"

"Maybe she…"

"WHO!"

"Hal, look, don't panic, but…well, Tom didnae actually stake Belinda."

**"WHAT!"**


	25. Part 25 Pay no attention

**25 - Pay no attention to the men behind the curtain**

No. I'm not dead. But I damned well wish I was.

Everything after I killed Aggie was a horrible blur. I remember shoring myself up for a staking and then I remember Alex laying her hands on me, and the world moving. It made my ears pop, like travelling in an elevator up a thousand floors in a second. I landed in a cellar, sans shoes, sans dignity, but in procession of whatever life I could still call my own.

"Why?" I asked before Alex popped away again.

She shrugged, "Dinnae ask me, 'babes', it's Tom's idea no' mine. If it was up te me you'd be dust." Then she was gone.

I am not sure what hour clarity returned, but it did and that was when the panic and the pains set in. I had had a taste now, and all I wanted was more. But I wanted to know whether Hal was alright, too. I railed at the door, the walls, the ceiling, until I was hoarse. At some point Alex returned and told me to shut up or Hal would realise I still here.

"He thinks I'm…"

"Hoover food, yeah," she said with pride.

"How?"

"Emptied the shit from the vacuum all over the place and got you away from Hal. It was totally cathartic. I must admit, it's one o'Tom's better plans."

"Why? Why not just stake me?"

"Tom thinks you're a lot nicer than you actually are! Even though I told him _everything _you did! But since I also told him you kill vampires and that's what you came te do, I think, I dunno, that you're, like, a kindred spirit or some shit. He thinks you can be 'good' too. Fuck it, sometimes I think he's like the _worst_ judge of character but whatever."

"But Hal?"

"Oh-ho-ho. Dinnae think for one second love that you're getting' ne'where near that whole…fuckscapade. We were makin' progress, but you had te turn up an mess tha' right up! He drank one cup o' my blood and it took us a month to claw him down from the ceiling, whattefuck do you think he's like now, eh!" She wound her finger around her ear, "Batshit doesnae cover it."

"I'll scream. He'll know," I threatened, "You can't keep me down here forever."

"What? Is this too cramped for ye? Try getting lodged in a toaster!"

"You don't understand! I had to do that. It was important."

"Aye, well that's as maybe, but so is Hal, to us. So make yoursel' comfortable, keep quiet and maybe, just maybe, I won't dust you while you sleep."

"I can't sleep! Do you have any fucking idea what these cravings are like, babes?"

"I watched the guy I took on a te date lick my maggoty blood off a basement floor, so, yeah, trust me, I TOTALLY get it."

"Hal was going to help me."

"Don't make me laugh, Hal cannae help himself love, let alone you. We both know how that would end, and I … look I've lost a _lot_ recently, not least of all my fuckin' body, and I wouldnae tell him to Hal's face, but if it weren't for those two blokes I'd be a _complete_ mess. So I couldnae cope if I saw them fall apart, and that's what would happen if you stuck around. He's such a sweet guy, Hal, I've seen it, and I don' want te see that get lost in the shitstorm you seem te create, because it will destroy Tom too, and that's ne' fair either. No, so we'll sort you out, for Hal's sake, and then you can be on your merry."

"I can't see him?"

"That's the deal, take it o' leave it. Now de'ye want some o' this to help you sleep?" she grinned and produced the needle and ketamine which I had kept in my bag.

"You went through my stuff!" I bristled, "I did say I didn't like people touching my stuff!"

"Hey, you're dead, you don't get a say. Nice Jag by the way! I am totally test driving that baby!"

I launched at her, but this time she was prepared. I caught the needle in my shoulder and in a few moments I was out like a well fed baby.

* * *

><p>The next thing I saw was the inside of a van. It was dark, with the doors closed, and ice cold. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark I worked out that this was one of Daddy's vans, I could tell from the signs pinned to the wall with the company logo on. Daddy's vehicles had trackers on them, someone would find me eventually, I just had to wait it out.<p>

I surmised that Alex must have moved me in the night. They had put my old handcuffs to good use, meaning that I wasn't getting out of here in a hurry. This was how it was going to work then, detoxing in the back of a van.

Glamourous, Linny, glamourous.

I could have been at the Strand drinking birthday cocktails with crowds of people, and here I was smelling of two day old clothes, stale blood and basement. Now was one of those moments I found myself somewhat doubted my life choices.

After a few hours calling out and pointlessly trying to wriggle myself free I was paid another visit. Tom opened up the doors at the back of the van and lumped inside. He didn't come too close. I tried to pull it together, tried the 'damsel in distress' act but he wasn't buying it.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry n' all," he said, "But it's for the best, like."

"Please, Tom, I'm begging you, you can't keep me here?"

"I know, but no one's gunna 'ear you aat 'ere so you can get it aat your system, like."

"The blood you mean?"

"Yeah. So listen, your Dad…"

"What about him?"

"The papers say he weren't a very nice man were 'e?"

"No, Tom, he wasn't, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die. Neither did my friend."

"You're not just sayin' that?"

"No, Tom. I'm not. I'm a monster, I get that now. Being a vampire is not like an addiction, something you can get over, it's a curse. It's heinous and so am I. I really wish you _had_ staked me."

"But Hal, he can do it can't 'e?" he looked at me with such hope, it was sad.

"I want that to be true, but ultimately I understand so much more now. Truth is, the only good vampire Tom, is a dead one," I said.

"Aye, well, that's what McNair said n'all. But maybe I plan to prove you both wrong, eh?"

"I hope, for Hal's sake, that you're right."

He left. I was on my own again. The night came and went. In my dreams I saw Aggie, my father, they would haunt me forever now, as those whom Hal had killed must have haunted him. I screamed at them to leave me be, but they wouldn't.

* * *

><p>What felt like days passed. I think at one point I spent hours trying to break my thumbs to free myself but I couldn't get enough purchase. I screamed till my throat was raw and even tried to stove my head in to stop the pains and the nightmares, but even unconsciousness didn't help. I'm ashamed to admit it but there was an awful lot of crying too.<p>

I'm not sure how much time passed, it felt like forever, but I was eventually woken from my nightmares by a bright light. Realising that someone had opened the truck door, I squinted in the sunlight. A silhouette approached.

"Tom?" I croaked, "Alex?"

No, I realised there was not just one silhouette. There were many. Half a dozen at least. Once he was near enough I saw that the man at the head of the crowd was blonde. He wore a smart grey suit and had a gentle smile that, frankly, terrified me.

"Hello Miss Weaver," he said, "We've been looking for you everywhere."

"Who…who are you?"

"That question is academic, Miss Weaver. Gentlemen, we have a Lady on our hands, so, Premium Service if you will. Containment and situation control is the order of the day for now. Shall we say two minutes to clear up this mess?"

My mouth dried in horror as they came for me. I tried to fight them off, but I knew it was a lost battle pretty quickly.

* * *

><p>I'm not sure what drug they gave me but when they rolled my in front of my Mummy, and told her I was dead, I was conscious. I had to listen to her weep over me in desperation, grasping at a cold hand that wanted to cling back. Her prayers burned.<p>

She told me how she thinks that she had failed, how she wished she was there for me. I wanted to tell her how badly that wasn't the case, because here she was, my Mummy, in one piece. Here she was out in the world, free, telling me how much better she was, how she was going to start again, without my father and how she wished I could be there with her. She wished, she said, that I could enjoy it by her side. She wasn't to know that I never could have. It wasn't safe, not given what I was. If they hadn't dosed me I knew I would have probably killed her...my Mummy.

_I did it Mummy, I did something, look you're okay!_

When they took me away from her it seemed an empty victory. I wanted to cry but I could not.

* * *

><p>If the girls at Cheltenham Ladies college could see me now, I joke to myself in the dark.<p>

I had been 'tidied away'. Locked in my body, terrified, untrusting of everyone around me, and trying to best the agony of the hunger within, but all I wanted to be was back in that hideous B&B, with Hal, surviving this together. Being better for each others' sake. Was I dreaming that future possible? Perhaps it never would have been likely.

But No, I suppose that I don't deserve that, even if it could be true. Then again, even in my darker moments I don't think I deserve this either.

I'm not dead, but I wish I was, because Hell, whatever it is, can't be as bad as this.

I don't know where I am now. They won't stake me. Goodness knows why! There must be a reason, I tell myself, this can't be** it**, can it?

I feel like I've been filed away where I can't do anyone any harm, somewhere where I wait for whatever comes first, madness or death.

I cling onto hope that Hal makes it for both of us and that, whoever these people are, they never find out where he is.

Do you know what the worst thing about this is? I can't get fucking Sonny & Cher out my head! Back to step 1, I suppose...

* * *

><p><em>Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over our addiction -<em>

_that our lives had become unmanageable_

* * *

><p>"<strong>BELINDA'S ALIVE!<strong>"

"Aye, we thought it were best if yer thought she was gone, like," said Tom, shuffling from foot to foot sheepishly.

"Tom! How could you possibly think that was a good idea!"

"Well, she did make you kinda barmy for a few days!" Alex explained.

**"THAT WAS YOU! I WAS FINE! WHERE IS SHE! LET ME OUT NOW!"**

"I don' know. Calm down. Look, we locked her in the back of her Dad's van and drove it inte the woods, so she could detox. She must've got free, driven it off. And don't try that yet, Hal, you and I both know you're no' better yet."

"**Let me go this fucking instant!" **I railed.

It would do no good. I couldn't persuade them the old fashioned way. I had to do this properly. I would_ have to_ survive it now, the fight for the better part of me, and build the trust of Alex and Tom again. I would have to stay good, and master the monster, because finally I had something to get better for.

Not just Alex, not just Tom, not just me, but Belinda was out there, somewhere, and I had a horrible feeling she needed help.

Finally I had my something bigger, my something worthwhile, my something to fight for.

Hope.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>"That's all folks!"<strong>

**Thanks for coming along for the ride.**

**Please leave a review if you've made it to the end, **

**I'd love to know your thoughts :D**

**Spon x**

_CLICK NEXT FOR AN EPILOGUE AND INFO ABOUT PART 2..._


	26. Epilogue

_*a little bank-holiday flourish*_

**Epilogue: Things about which I do not yet know.**

A young man with no name walks into a bar. He is a lawyer, a man who finds people. They call him Kobayashi, it's just a nickname from work, but he likes it. The bar is half empty, full of those who don't want to go home, or cannot. It is past 4am. The floor sticks to the soles of his shoes as he strides through the low lit crevices and takes a seat at the bar.

Upon seeing him, the barman peals himself from his comfortable corner, by drained dispensers. He slumps over, more asleep than alive, and looks his pristine patron in the eye with half-cocked amusement. "We don't serve your kind in here, it gets messy," he says.

"Lawyers?" Kobayashi smiles, though his mouth is small, it barely moves. He has a face that always wins at poker.

"Humans," laughs the bar-man.

The bar, _"A Csomagolás"_, is in Hungary. It is down one of those streets in Pest that only fools stumble into, and only the dead are thrown out of. It is a blockish, Stalinist, cage; this is where the wolves come to prowl. But it does not phase the lawyer. He slides a wedge of notes across the bar and waves the barman away; no drinks for Kobayashi today. He is working. Once he has been left alone, the lawyer lifts a heavy briefcase up on to the bar and flips open the clasps.

Click.

Click.

When he slides the case along the bar the pooled alcohol streaks upon the glass with a squeak until it rests in front of the man beside whom he has sat. A thick-necked, black man, with one paw wrapped around a heavily laden glass of whiskey, stares at the gift. He is a man who wears his war scars like an old, well-torn jumper, even those that have cut his soul are flecked across the fabric of his face. No one doubts this is a man who might kill them at a word. In the bar, they call him 'Milo'.

Kobayashi knocks open the lid of the case, betraying piles of notes inside. The ink upon the money smells sweet. "They say you're the man we need," he smiles.

"They?" croaks Milo, shutting the lid of the case. He turns his head, slowly, sardonically, and looks his bar companion up and down. The thick air shivers. One of the other patrons at the bar vacates the premises.

"They do," says Kobayashi.

"I'm busy," Milo adds and pushes the case back to the lawyer.

"That's just for travel expenses," Kobayashi explains. "My client has instructed me that there is no limit to how much they will pay to have the job done."

"Things have changed," Milo says, "I'm just cleaning up here. Then I'll be gone."

"Moving on? Now the Old Ones aren't here to clean your wounds."

"Starting again," Milo says and tips the drink back into his gullet. He waves the glass in the air. The barman places the bottle of liquor between Milo and the lawyer.

"I said that I'm not interested," Milo bristles. He stands. "Generally, I don't have to ask things twice."

Another patron, from a near corner, hurriedly leaves. But Kobayashi is not phased by threatening behaviour. He turns on the bar stool, stands, takes up the case and holds it before him.

"You should be interested," Kobayashi insists with a slight air of condescension. "Things are going to get very, very messy. Your friends, if you can call them that, are all dead. Whatever petty semblance of control existed, has now vanished. That means we have a power-vacuum, Milo. You don't strike me as a well-read man but, if you were, you would know what is going to happen next. Humanity may be flawed, barely clinging on to the idea of 'order'; but, without the fear of the Old Ones looming above them, every supernatural alive has been cut loose. Put simply: we will have anarchy. From what I have learned of you, my friend, you are a man who likes to be on the winning team, but when chaos reigns there are no winners. My client has the means to ensure you are funded to escape the destruction. If that doesn't interest you then I am here to tell you something my client does not know: that this job will put in your hands something of greater importance...Power."

Milo's shoulders relax by such a small degree it is only the astute eyes of the lawyer which spot it, "I'm listening," Milo adds.

"History shows us that after anarchy comes a new order. Those who have money in their pockets are betting on what kind of power will form when it is all the death is done. Some say were wolves will reign supreme, some say a new group of viscous vampires will claw their way to the top of the pile. Few honestly believe the dead will take control, but you would be surprised how many bets are upon the humans! I have other beliefs, something a little 'blue-sky'. Call me crazy but personally I believe humans, vampires, wolves, the dead… can work together. My client is looking for someone. Someone who, until recently, they thought dead. Someone who, the more I learn about, the more I think might be what we need…"

"We?"

Someone taps Milo upon the shoulder. He turns, lifting his glass above his head, ready to bring it down upon the head of whoever has accosted him. Behind him he sees only the ectoplasmic remnants of an overweight woman with bad dress sense.

"Ello' love," smiles the spiritual lump, "Name's Connie."

"I don't work with ghosts," Milo spits at the lawyer. "You should leave now."

"Now, Now, love, there's no need to be rude."

"Mrs Simm is just here to help us with our first task, then I'm confident she'll pass over. If you are interested I have another Type 3 in mind to complete our number. But first we need someone who, despite my incredible skills, I have yet been unable to find."

"A vampire?"

"A vampire."

"I'm done with vampires," Milo huffs. "I'm sticking with my own kind. If there's a war to be won, then we will win it without the help of spectres, blood-suckers or dead-men-walking."

"Oh, love," interjects Connie, "My Lady ain't like any of the vampires you know, she's something new. You'll see."

"Lady?"

Kobayashi reaches into the case and extracts a large manila envelope. After replacing the case upon the floor he hands the envelope to Milo. The werewolf tares it open incredulously and removes a photograph and a paper from within. _"Lady Belinda Weaver confirmed dead." _

_"_She's a vampire?"

"More than that, she's a _candidate_, Milo. But we have to find her first."

"Fine," Milo grunts, picking up the case from Kobayashi's feet, "but we're doing this _my _way..."


	27. to keep reading

_To find out more ... continue to Part 2..._

_Search for 'Not For Turning'_


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